


THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD

by Fishtankus



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Canon Compliant, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Headcanon, Heartbreak, Original Character(s), Parent-Child Relationship, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:55:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 27,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishtankus/pseuds/Fishtankus
Summary: William and Noora S2-S4, but from Williams POV.





	1. Friday

The beam of sunlight pouring through the tall window strikes a bewildered butterfly flying in circles. His eyes trails the circular motions of the colorful insect searching for a way out. Outside; the schoolyard is almost empty. Mari is standing in a group chatting and laughing. A fraction of a second - a short flash of two small girls, one with chestnut brown curls, the other blond - on a swing - giggling - appears on his inner white screen. He shakes his head slightly and walks away from the window.

Ofcause Chris and Borkis are late. They have all been summoned here to the science lab on the third floor for a last repetition of chemistry before the final exam next week. He finds his phone in the back pocket of his jeans and conquers a table in the corner, leaning his back against the wall. One foots rapid tapping on the surface of the table is the only sound in the room. As he goes though the most recent texts, the chestnut brown head of hair falls into his face, hiding most features identifying the 19 year old boy. 

These texts throws him right back to Tuesday morning in his car. 

Noora sitting next to him, vulnerable.

Noora saying: "Jeg elsker deg". 

Noora looking, at him in a new way, as if she trusts him with her heart.

The liquid happiness flowing through his vanes ignites a rare smile behind the thick dark curtain of hair. Happiness is volatile. You inhale and then move on. "Livet er NÅ". He is taking a chance on this blonde girl and being vulnerable could be dangerous in his territory, where control is key. 

A sound draws him back to the present. The butterfly, which as it comes closer, turns out to be a moth, flies into the half-open cupboard next to him. Probably in search of a dark space to rest until night. 

And she had been pale and somewhat fragile in Evas driveway, that morning when he dropped her off. She had to figure something out, she had said. Couldn't tell him what it was. Now that he thinks about it, something has been off with her since the bottle incident. 

Three weeks ago today. After the unfortunate and stupid speech defendning the-smashing-a bottle-into-some-dudes-head, she had called for space. Two weeks of increasing agony had followed. But then she had finaly come to him. As William is recalling that day, he is looking at the exact same spot by the door, where he was standing then, trying to explain his actions, while at the same time exposing more about his life, than he could recall ever having shared with anyone before her. 

At this point he thought they were back on track. However, the next time he saw her, she was in bed more angst ridden and depressed, than before. It was the night before May 17th, the peak of the russe period. The day they (the guys) had all been aiming at and working for since high school began three years ago. He was supposed to be all psyched up about it, but all he really cared about that night was Noora. He thought the storm had passed the next morning

But when he asked her, how she was feeling, she had answered: "Like the worst human being in this world".

A familiar inner voice, like a small stone in his shoe, tells him to watch out and protect himself. Whatever, at least she is communicating now, which to William is the most important thing. His texts or calls do not go unnoticed for days, as in the weeks before. She trusts him. William puts a hand through his hair unsuccessfully trying to keep it behind his ears. 

In a few weeks school is over and then theres a long summer infront of them. He defenitely needs to go to London at some point. Imagine Noora in London having brunch at his favorite cafe or taking her to a play or strolling through the market on Portobello Road. She would defenitely enjoy that. He looks at the clock on the wall. The guys should have been here 15 minuttes ago. As he scrolls though his texts to find the last one from Chris he is disturbed by a PLING and Nico's name flashing on the screen. The slight smile on his lips immidiately turns into a thin line, forehead furrowed as he reads the words written by his brother. 

NICO: "Even though this is going to hurt you little brother, I must tell you. You can't trust that girl Noora. I know now, that you care about her, but only a few weeks ago, you told me she was not your girlfriend??? So I went for it at my party the other day, when you were away. She was all over the place, drunk and clingy. It did not mean a thing. I just wanted you to hear it from me". 

Then a new PLING and a picture. Blurry, but not blurry enough to hide the fact, that it is of Noora lying naked on the side in a bed.


	2. Just say NO

Nico is full of shit, but this picture is not lying. Who took this picture? How? When? Why? 

Noora naked in a bed, what the fuck. Before the reptile brain completely takes over, the small part of Williams human brain still functioning tells him, this is a lie.

Noora will tell him, it is a lie.

His heart is racing to a point, where it feels far too big to fit into his chest. Focused on breathing William walks towards the door. In that instance Chris and two other guys make a loud entrance, checking out pictures on the phone discussing the russe parties. Williams’s dark mood passes Chris in the doorway. His features not giving anything away, but his eyes showing it all.

This look on his friends face is somewhat familiar to Chris: A school exhibition, a display of rocks found in the mountains surrounding Oslo, neatly written labels on each rock describing the type and age. William waiting for his family members to show up. Of cause those assholes never fucking came. There are other stories, but William is way gone and something else catches Chris attention.

William tramples down the stairs, heading for the first floors window case, where Noora and her girl squad often hang out. Still focused on breathing, telling himself to relax, his brain is rewinding and replaying Nooras actions during the past few weeks. Nico is the villain, he knows…. He should have protected her, but this picture…………. and Noora feeling like the worst human being in the world …She did say there was something she couldn’t tell him ??? 

As William reaches the first floor, he sees Vilde and Eva sitting in the window case. He flies by straight to Noora standing next to Sana and Chris at the other window. 

He approaches Noora from high above her face: “Tell me, you did not sleep with my brother?” His dark demanding eyes clashes with her glossy pale green ones, searching for her NO. Confused by the fear they detect.

“I can explain everything”, she replies. All color drained from her face, her eyes flickered with guilt? Fear? or what the fuck? 

He is so confused. Is he hearing this right? Explain what? He had expected a simple NO. William acknowledges, his window is about to shut down. The softness and kindness, he so wants to trap and keep inside only to release again and pour all over Noora, is seeping away.

Confused and on the verge of breaking, one last try: “You haven’t slept with him?”, barely able to fulfill the sentence, he pauses and stares. There is only one answer to this question. Just say NO and we can move on. Piercing eyes, searching her soul, waiting, begging for her NO. He can't breathe. No wonder heartache and love go hand in hand.

“I don’t know”, she says. Three simple words rips out his heart. 

Their eyes lock for what feels like eternity. His lower lip trembling, he is fighting back the tears. The self imposed armor is crumbling and he knows all to well, what needs to be done.

Get out of the war zone 

Take control of the situation. 

Shut down. 

He is not in that room anymore. 

He has left his body and soul. 

He feels nothing.


	3. Familiar territory

Nooras face, Nooras words, Nico’s hand, Nooras lips, Nico’s smile, a moth, a bed, a car, a hand, chestnut curls, metal crashing etc. etc. Fractions, pictures, sounds in his head, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding on the run away from HER, into the city. As the distance between them grows, William begins to reclaim control. He wipes the wet of his face and redirects focus on the road ahead instead of into the ground. 

Back in familiar territory, he knows very well, he needs to cope with this threat on his own. What is Noora to him anyway; it has been what? A few months. Nico on the other hand – this fucking giant heavy rock of a brother, chained to his leg, is the real problem….and must be dealt with….later.

The apartment is out. Nico might be there and he needs time to think before facing the psychopath older brother.

Chris? Williams’s lack of commitment during the final weeks of the russe period gave him away. Chris knows he has - or had a weak spot for Noora. The risk of questions, her name coming up, is not good for anybody at this point. Nope. 

London was the plan all along before Noora… At dads place he can hang out by himself. No questions asked, no school, no running into Noora. That’s it. As a frequent traveler, William is equipped with the SAS diamond card, which offers a number of benefits. One of them is full guarantee of a seat on any plane to London, all he needs is a phone to make the booking. 

The icons of two new texts bid his eyes welcome as he unlocks the screen. He will deal with them later.

By the time, the taxi arrives at Oslo’s beautiful airport Gardamoen, William is in possession of a boarding pass and within 10 minutes, he is through security, heading for the SAS VIP lounge. This room is another favorite space of Williams. Nice fluffy blue couches in tasteful Scandinavian design, light blue painted walls and most importantly, he associates the lounge with his dad and another life without Nico. 

Two boys are playing cards in the couch by the door; an older man standing by the refreshments is piling cake and fruit up on a plate. Exhausted, William throws himself into the couch opposite the boys. 

On this day, the blueness and harmonic quietness of this place is playing tricks with his mind. He must not give in to sadness now. Control trumps fear of pain. 

The PLING sound from the phone brings William back to reality. Three texts by now. 

He erases the one from Noora without reading it. 

The next from Chris: “Where are you? What about chemistry?” - He answers with five words: “On my way to London”. 

To answer his dad’s text, he recycles the “On my way to London”. Dad wants William to confirm his commitment to a position as a broker trainee in London and to provide information about his plans for the summer.

William’s brain starts spinning again. A slight stinging on his back caused by a claw - a memory of HER desperate attempts to hold him back - puts his evasion campaign to the test. For distraction, he begins to observe the boys playing cards across the table from him. From their conversation he gets, that they are heading for Copenhagen to spend summer vacation with relatives. First time flying unaccompanied, especially the younger one seems worried. This game of Rummy is probably a tool to keep his mind on something else. 

William is close enough to see the older boys hand in cards. When the little one triumphantly looks at his older brother and proclaims “Rummy”, the older brother has one more chance to lay out his cards. However, to Williams’s surprise, he holds back the three aces, which could have won him the game, resulting in the little one winning- giant grin on this ones face, as he raises his arms in the air and shouts from the top of his lungs: “Touch down”. 

This kind gesture from an older brother punctuates layer upon layer of self-imposed armor. Sitting in the couch bent forwards his forehead is resting in the palm of his hands, hair drawn infront of his face like a curtain – William quietly implodes.


	4. Insomnia

In a bed, in a room, in an apartment in London William is trying to sleep. His heart is pounding and if he hadn’t tried this before, he would be worried something was seriously wrong. During the day, things are going fine, but at night, he can’t find peace and needs to take charge of his mind. Breathing, taking in oxygen through the nose, on to the abdomen and then slowly exhale through the mouth. Repeatedly searching for some peace of mind through the endless repetitions of this routine. The million pictures and thoughts swirling in his brain is passed through a big sieve, where only the small unessential, unimportant, insensible thoughts are allowed to materialize onto the inner white screen.

Today was spent checking out apartments – three possible future homes. Dad is on a mission to install William in London and keep him here. This mission is enforced by a series of “appetizers” such as nights out on town, dinners with important people, beautiful girls and now an apartment of Williams own choice for, when he plants his roots here. The time has come to replace provincial Oslo with metropolitan London. 

At 2.24, this chain of thoughts is disturbed, when his phone sends out the usual short glimpse of light indicating a new text has arrived. Checking this text is most definitely not in accordance with Williams self-soothing sleeping technique, however, he pics up the phone anyway and reads “From Noora Amalie”. The challenged heart skips a beat. For some reason a reflex of his thumb gives the win to “Read” instead of “Delete”:

NOORA AMALIE: “How damn difficult can it be to answer. I understand you're hurt, but you can answer me”.

Williams puts the pillow behind his head, sit up and rests his back against the wall, while staring into the room. Once again his thoughts starts spinning out of control. 

Noora sitting or lying somewhere at this very moment, thinking of him. Going from heaven to hell in one day, what happened? Why was Noora naked in bed with Nico? How did Nico get her to do that? Why did she do it? Of cause its Nico’s mind at work here and Noora a way to get to him, but how, it was played out is incomprehensible, and William cannot be bothered with this bullshit any more. Williams’s brain is shaped to be on alert for danger, and to try to make those terrible feelings go away. This is exactly the kind of toxic thinking, which will kill him in the end. 

His lips are moving as he gives a soundless speech to a dark shadow of a chair at the end of the bed:

“Noora how fucking difficult was it for YOU - back then - to answer texts, phone calls or even talk to me showing up at your doorstep. As I recall, it was very very difficult, actually it was impossible. This is how it fucking feels Noora, when you are at the other end not knowing, if you are bought or sold.  
And don’t tell me I’m …hurting…cause I am NOT. I am pissed at useless idiot Nico. Pissed at you Noora for not telling me, not trusting me, lying. Pissed at myself for losing it, for not knowing what to think anymore. Pissed at my dad for this London adventure. Pissed at the god damn fucking school for making me go back to Oslo tomorrow… “.


	5. A tiny ray of sunshine

At 13.50, exactly William parks his car in a parking lot down the road from school. Dressed in newly achieved black pants, t-shirt and his noble navy blue coat with hood, he enters the schoolyard through the small gate. The distance from here to the main entrance, he travels in the periphery of the schoolyard, hoping not to meet anyone. This incognito entré bears little resemblance to the legendary majestic stroll; he pulled off on a daily basis, only a few months ago. Luckily, there is no one here, exams have begun, and for the few, who are still in class, the break is over. From here on the plan is to make it to the principal’s office, argue his case about the missing exams and then on the way back pick up whats left of his belongings in his locker. 

\------------

The combination of the serious, well-articulated and polite young man and the medical certificate from his British doctor rests the case. William achieves permission to attend the re-examinations later this summer. What a great relief, finally a tiny ray of sunshine. After the obligatory shaking hands, thank you’s and goodbyes William opens the door and steps out of the office into the corridor. 

The moment his hand glides of the door handle, he knows SHE is right there – behind him. His first thought is to run, get the hell out of there, but even though this corridor is jammed with doors everywhere, there's no escaping her, its too late. Instead, unconsciously he takes a few steps forward, increasing the distance between them, buying time.

“You haven’t answered any of my texts?” She says to his back ….

His heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice. He freezes, shakes his head to make sure the lock of hair doesn’t fall in his eyes and turns around to face her. Bright light hits his eyes, there she is glowing at him, lips red, eyes sad - as a contrast personified cold dark matter is staring back at her. His brain disconnects his heart, mask on. She looks beautiful, the brain notices. Same brain knows he is the only asshole here, but doesn’t give a shit. This is the other William.

“Out of power”, he says staring straight into her emerald eyes 

“I haven’t slept with your brother”, she almost pleads, probably hoping this information will bring him back, but at this point he doesn't give a shit. She kept him in the dark for too long. 

In this no-man’s land between the staff offices they are having a starring contest and in order to be ahead in this confrontation William is carefully reading her every move. The way she looks at him nervously tilting her head is different, as if she feels sorry for him. This is such bullshit. Her hands are fidgeting and her sad eyes flickering, as she slowly approaches him step by step and when she enters his sphere, and he smells her soft perfume, and he feels the warmth of her body, and he knows she is hurting for a hug - he takes a step back. The emotions released by this bombardment of his senses are much harder to discipline, than his heart.

“Can we talk?” she asks, staring at him with that sweet face.

This is a battle of wills. There is no way he can talk to her now. He needs to be prepared for a talk. 

“I am moving …...to London”.

Face to face, she puts forward a familiar speech: “Listen now, William Magnusson, you are a smart guy, so you should understand, that I never come hell or high water, would let you just move to London, without you and I talking first. If you really want to get rid of me, you must meet me for a talk. 

Her punchline, hits him in the gut: “Stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself”.

For every word uttered, she moves in on him. She is so close now, uncomfortably close. He feels her breath on his face and his heart is somehow finding a connection to his brain. Noora is getting more powerful and confident for every word she speaks and he knows, she has the lead now. Smart move using his own words against him. Time to get the hell out of there. He is so over this bullshit of having a girlfriend.

“OK”, He turns, so that she can’t see his heart shining through. 

On the way out the door, back turned against her, he adds: “I’ll text you”.

\--------------------

William spends the rest of the afternoon in town, buying a new piece of luggage, some clothes and a new computer. Things he already owns but cannot get to, because they are in the apartment, and he is not ready to face Nico. When his mind stumbles on a Noora thread, it is consciously rejected. The less he thinks about her, the better he feels, it’s that simple.

Around dinnertime, he parks his car next to the station car in the double garage by the Schistads home. - a typical Norwegian wooden villa in the northern part of Oslo. To William this is a special place, where he over the years has observed how family life unfolds. An example of this curious lifestyle meets him, when he enters the house through the back door. An annoyingly loud noise from an old washing machine prevents him from hearing Chris shouting from the kitchen: "Halla". The entré is a mess, different types of shoes most of them not in pairs scattered all over the floor, one coat on the hanger the rest in a big pile on a chair. The wrinkle on William forehead unfolds and his eyes smile, as he imagines the members of this family, coming home from work or school, each one them adding their own touch to this chaos.

Tomorrow Chris has an oral exam and needs to study. He is sitting by the dinner table in the big kitchen eating a sandwich going through his notes. “Big brother” aka Mr. Shistad is monitoring his son closely making sure every waking hour is spend studying. Therefor the friends did not get to talk much last night, when William surprisingly and out of nowhere showed up. 

“Halla”: William lands on a chair next to Chris. He begins to unload the stuff he managed to rescue from his locker after the confrontation with Noora. The silence in the room doesn’t bother him. 

“What are you doing?”, Chris watches the pile of papers and books infront of them grow as he finishes his sandwich: "What are you doing Will?", he repeats.

Williams lips are pressed together forming a thin line, the lock of hair falls into his face as he bends forward to narrow in on a piece of paper. He doesn’t feel like talking, but mangages to mumble. “I throw a lot of shit out, I don't need anymore”.

From the pile of shit, Chris picks out a picture of a fuck boy-cliché-ish-William posing in front of the statue of the two sisters in the schoolyard. A short laugh and a smile escapes his mouth: “When was this picture taken?”.

Sorting, what to throw out and what to keep, William is far away in his own thoughts: “Mmmm.....................2nd year of high school”. 

However, it could be a hundred years ago.

Chris, notices his bro’s unwillingness to look up. He probably shouldn't ask, but he can't help himself, plus he's got Eva on hold, asking for inside information: “Have you heard anything from Noora?”.

Head still deep in the shit pile, definitely not up for a Q&A session on this particular topic: “We….I dropped it. I don’t think we are a good match”. William shakes his head.

Chris grabs an apple from the bowl and starts chewing, something is obviously not OK. Besides Chris already knows, what this is about. Hell, everyone knows and if his pal prefers not to talk, it’s fine with him. 

William returns from his thoughts and looks at his friend. Chris is the light of any party, a ray of sunshine, uncomplicated and easy to get along with. In other words the complete opposite of himself. Chris' good karma along with being welcomed in this house on a day like today, suddenly overwhelms him with a wave of gratitude and for the first time, he wonders if Chris knows, just how much this friendship means to him.


	6. The talk

On the last Friday in May, a sunny and warm afternoon, Mr. Schistad is carrying a tray with 4 glasses and some snacks across the garden. Of the three people on the patio, enjoying the first day of summer, William is the only one, who immediately jumps out of his chair to help out, when Mr. S comes dangerously close to tipping over. Chris, his mom and now his dad are using Williams’s trip to London as an excuse for an afternoon happy hour, enjoying the garden and the nice weather. The atmosphere, at least among the three family members, is light and happy. Chris did well at the exam yesterday and the hopeful parents are beginning to eye a bright future for their son, something the son himself doubts, nevertheless, he is happy not to have let, especially, his father down. 

Considering William is actually moving to London, the luggage next to him is a very modest collection of his belongings. William pretends to be fine, smiling when Mrs. S. pours him a glass of wine and laughing, when Chris imitates the hopeless questions the teacher put forward at his oral exam yesterday. Behind the mask, however, he is feeling utterly sad. As much as he enjoys the Schistads hospitality, after 3 days he needs some space. His mind is spinning again and he is exhausted and tired of being on the run, from Nico, from HER. London is next - Nico at a safe distance, well perhaps not quite next. One more hurdle, why the hell did he agree to meet HER for a talk? Being this drained, tired and just plain down, he wants to drop it, but can’t go back on his word. 

Time to make a move and as William tries to catch Chris' attention, he notices the concerned look in Mrs. S. eyes. He is very well aware of her worries, but feels awkward about it. There is a fine line between being concerned and feeling pity and William is allergic to any situation, where his instinct tells him people have been digging into his background and possibly, now feel sorry for him. Mrs. S, as much as he likes her, does come awful close sometimes. All of this is going through his mind as he tries to avoid eye contact and at the same time say goodbye. 

Mrs. S. takes off her sunglasses, disregards his invitation to shake hands and instead spreads her arms wide inviting him in for for big hug: “Come back and stay any time”. 

A part of him wants to lean in, relax, knowing she cares, but his torso is stiff as a board, as if he knows letting go will push him over the edge: "Just wanted to say goodbye and thanks for everything", he mumbles looking into the ground. 

She gives him a peck on the forehead, pulls his cheek: “Take good care of yourself now”.

The four of them cross the lawn to the garage and William and Chris, each carrying a bag of luggage, jump into the station car, Chris in the driver's seat – for once. Most of the space in the trunk is occupied by a cat’s cage, so the bags go into the backseat. Chris is focused on backing out of the tricky driveway. His parents run after the car waving until they are out of sight. These kind people have promised to handle the practicalities regarding the sale of Williams beloved car, the Porsche. This really is goodbye.

On the road again, Chris is chatting about his plans to come for a visit later in the summer, however, Williams mind is somewhere else. He knows he is fragile more so than the other day, where HER sudden appearance, put him on full alert and had the reptile part of his brain, working on overload. This is why he asked Chris to drive him. For moral support. SHE might try to win him back, what else is this talk about? Why did she keep whatever happened from him? He feels like shit every god damn time his mind bumps into this scenario.

A short distance from the exit to the airport, William tells Chris to head for centrum instead...for some unfinished business. It will only take 10 minutes or so, best if Chris waits in the car. This i all he wants to share with his best friend for now. The sun is reflected in the windows of the colorful houses they pass on the drive to Nooras place. He looks out of the window on his side, grateful his friend has stopped chatting and let him be. 

While Chris parks the car along the road a short distance from the main entrance to Nooras apartment, William sends a text stating, he is outside and doesn’t have a lot of time. He is such a douche and he knows it. As he climbs out of the car, stretching his long limbs, he tries to prepare for this conversation. The plan is to give her the lead, be on defense and just answer questions. In other words, same procedure as every other past confrontations they have had. 

Chris sees her approaching the car before William, who consciously is not looking in the direction of Nooras front door. He is hoping the effect of Chris' presence and him being in a hurry will result in a short process, but when he turns to face her, he can't help but melt a little. Ten minutes and it's over. Let's go. 

They exchange a few formalities, and when SHE asks, how long he intends to stay in London, he replies forever. This information has an impact on her, he notices. Her next move will probably be to ask about THEM and William knows better than anyone, from past experiences, exactly how this exchange is going to unfold.

Her: “What about us?”  
Him: “What do you mean what about us?”  
Her: "Is it over?"  
Him: "Yep"  
Her: "Just like that?"  
Him: “I am not in love with you”

This last sentence doesn’t feel right and his heart is beginning to ache. Surprisingly, what he thought would be the final knock out, seems to have turned her engine up a notch:

”Yes you are, that’s why you are so cold”, she says looking so damn cool and collected.

“No, I am cold because that’s, who I am”, William replies, shaking his head, piercing dark, sad eyes cutting into her soul. Nevertheless, when the words come out of his mouth, he knows it’s only partly true. That guy is cold - THIS one is sad and confused and trapped in this fear of letting her back in. This was the worst part and soon it will be over.

However, Noora is just getting started and now she is pissed and has nothing to loose. After staring at him trying to read his vacant face, she takes her time preparing her next move.

“I always wondered, how a smart guy like you, can defend behaving like such an asshole. Are you just telling yourself, this is who you are?" Tasting every word before spitting them out at him, she continues, "Is it because your mom is a cunt or because your childhood was tragic? Are you feeling pity on yourself, to an extent where you just can’t help behaving this way?”, she finally concludes, shaking her head slightly at the asshole in front of her .

The mentioning of his mom and his childhood is a shock to his entire system and the tall dark boy takes a step back. Piece by piece she just tore him apart, exposing his most vulnerable self. This is a turning point; William is lost and have no words left to say. He wants to shut her up, but can't find the words and Noora, it seems, is not done playing with him. Forehead furrowed, his mouth a thin line, he studies a man crossing the street behind Noora, half wondering why he is wearing a hat on a hot day like today and half listening to the continuation of Noora's speech.

“People experience horrible things every day, and still manage to be nice. You were not born an asshole or just accidentally became one, this is a choice as well as it is a choice letting Nico ruin everything between us. Tell me, what’s your plan, are you going to walk around London being an asshole, because your brother is a villain? Because your girlfriend lied to you?”". 

This is Noora from the schoolyard, back then, and she is saying the same shit, only this time her speech is more refined. She knows exactly whom he is; the pathetic story of his life. He can't break down, not now in front of her. Every mental cord, nerve string and all of his brain capacity is put into this one purpose, trying to keep up the armor. There is an ocean of despair before him, and if he dives in, he has no idea how to come back up for air. 

Head down, starring into the ground, curtain drawn, he is trying not to break. Noora is moving in on him. The sound of his heart is beating in his ears, and for a second he wonders, if she can hear the sound from her position so close to him. She is asking, if he is ever going to let anyone in, and he notices a stone on the ground and fights the urge to kick it. She continues her quest, or is he too afraid of getting hurt? Words from a pale mouth with no lipstick, and he knows she nailed it right then and there. It's damn lonely, she says, terribly lonely, and she dares to touch him, a loving hand tucks his hair behind the ear, people need people, and she loves him, she says, his gaze seeks hers, and she says he loves her back, and they have to be together. Her face touching his face, her skin soft as cotton, and he wants to surrender, and he knows she’s so worth it, brilliant, soft, and she sees though him, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding, images swirling, red smiling lips, a sudden kiss on a bridge, and he blinks and looks at Noora, and he sees blue green eyes from across a purple room, a girl with a guitar, a warm hand in his, and Nico laughing and he's alone again waiting for someone, sparkles, a hand letting go , it’s cold now, and he is running faster faster hair blowing in the wind away from her, and she’s still not here, and he pushes her and the other girl all the way up to touch the sky, blue dress pale and innocent, broken glass and blood and now the road is clear and he is driving towards the thin line of a horizon in front of him, alone, going, going, gone and he is to repeat after her, they have to be together, and he wants to, they must, he knows, but he can’t breathe, just kiss her, her lips so close, but he has to jump of the cliff, let go, his chest is too small for his pounding heart, let go, and now he is somewhere outside of himself watching them, a voice, his own, says he must leave, and someone opens the car door, and he is in the car again, and the car is in motion, away from her.

Williams stares at the image of himself reflected in the side mirror of the car, deep wrinkle on his forehead, mouth going south, dark sad eyes. Who the fuck is that person, he thinks. His mind is finding its way back to reality. Visions of the years ahead of him in London, without her runs before his eyes. The lonely nights in his apartment, the dinners with a bunch of strangers, endless hours at work, day after day. Is this what he wants? It is not too late. Obviously, she wants him back. He touches his face, the piece of his skin; she touched, and then rests his elbow on his chest, touching his lips with both thumbs, for support and to reduce the shivering going from his lips through his entire body. He feels sick and wants to throw up, but then discovers Chris by his side. He had completely forgotten him. He notices the car stopped moving and is now parked by the side of the road. William looks back, the entrance to Nooras building is 100 m down the road. 100 meters separates him from the love of his life, what the fuck is wrong with him.

Chris is unconsciously enjoying the drama, probably not fully aware of William’s state of mind. This is actually a bit creepy, William is always in control of his actions:

“Hey bro? Is this what you really want?”. 

Chris turns his head looks back and right then and there makes a decision (Eva will be very proud of him, when he tells her). There are no cars on the road behind them and without waiting for William's answer, he puts the car in reverse and starts backing. 

\-----------

The sounds of cars on the street, Eskil and Linn’s voices from the rooms next door even the noise in his head have disappeared. Nooras room is covered in a dark-purple light; in the bed, Noora is sound asleep, while William, wide-awake is twisting and turning. Lying on the left hand side, he can keep an eye on her; make sure she’s for real and doesn't go away. On the right hand side, the blue white light from the summer night is finding its way, through the cracks between the curtains, to his closed eyelids, not helping his case. He decides on the left hand side facing Noora, accepting he is nowhere near falling asleep. Instead, he indulges in her persona, features, hair, and lips. He can feel and hear her breathing steadily. Her left hand is resting on the sheet between them; carefully he picks it up, folds his right hand around it and rests the hand-conglomerate on his chest. He notices the intertwined hands going up and down on his chest, following his steady breathing and heartbeat. Liquid happiness flowing through his veins. The world outside has disappeared. 

The tight grip he has kept on his mind and soul for days, he let go and it feels so damn good. They tumbled up the stairs and into her room 10 hours ago and since then, they have been glued to each other. Two individuals turned one. No misunderstandings, miscommunication, sorrow, time zones or ocean between them anymore. It is - because it has always been, since the first time she spoke to him, right. They did not miss a beat. He has never felt or experienced anything like this before and he can’t imagine feeling this way with anyone else, but her, ever. For weeks he has climbed uphill, now he is standing on a mountain top and the view from up here is pure perfection and beautiful. 

Moreover, all of this without even having sex.

At eight, they went out for some food. She told him the full story of what happened. He can’t believe Nico would go to such extremes to get back at him. The consequences of this is enormous, he must break with Nico for sure.

Thinking of Nico now, takes him out of paradise. During his week long crusade he continuously has postponed dealing with Nico. A flood of dark memories awaits him, when he opens that door. It should be easy to cut Nico out after this, but it is not. As fucked up and nasty he is, the older brother has been the only constant in his life. Williams heart starts pounding again evidenced by the hand-conglomerate, resting on his chest, going up and down at a faster rhythm than before. He is standing by a cleft and must jump to cross. The unpleasant pain in the stomach, when you look down and see the abyss below and the gap between you and the other side is much wider, than expected. 

William is interrupted by a sigh from Noora; she pulls her hand out of their united-ness and turns to lie on the other side not facing him anymore. This innocent rejection is like a knife in his heart, and it scares the shit out of him. What if this doesn’t work out? She fell in love with a funny, smart, confident person and this vulnerable and insecure guy is all she gets. For the second time today, he feels like throwing up and his brain starts spinning. Exposed and naked like never before, he starts to panic. He just needs to get out of here. He climbs out of bed, finds his t-shirt, and pants by the chair. Breathe in, exhale, relax, come on now. The armchair, an old friend of his, invites him in. He recalls another night a few weeks ago spent in this chair, writing a hidden message to her in an article. 

Understanding, at last, the horrific truth of her state of mind, that same night.

After some time, Noora is awake again, searching for his presence next to her in the bed. When she discovers he is not there. She lifts herself up on the elbows and start scanning the shadows in the room. The sight of him in the chair makes her smile and she offers a hand in his direction: 

“What are you doing William? ….come back to bed………….. NOW”. 

"I'm sorry..." he murmurs, without moving, unable to hide the state he is in.

Noora climbs out of bed and in three steps she is standing by the chair. Without a word she takes his hand, and leads him back to the bed, gently encouraging him to sit down next to her. Sitting down he rests his head on her shoulders, mouth and nose burried in her neck and Noora wraps her arms around him, stroking his back with her hands. After a while of this quiet togetherness, she leans back and let herself and him fall into the bed. 

Lying on the side he mirrors her position next to him. His dark sad eyes meeting hers, searching for her thoughts...and as if she had read his ......she kisses him softly on the forehead, and says: 

"Just say we have to be together".

And he replies with no hesitation: 

"We have to be together"


	7. The apartment

William agreed to Nooras (insane) suggestion of walking the distance from centrum to his apartment. They left paradise an hour ago and reached this small café, where he made her stop for coffee and hot cacao. Its a bright Sunday afternoon and most of the outdoor tables are occupied by sun-starving Oslonians. He is watching her as she approaches with a tray in her hands, making her way though a labyrinth of tables, trying to keep her balance, while repaying his intense stare. Smiling almost laughing, a fluffy ball of love bursts somewhere near his heart and from there on spreads to the rest of his body. She puts the tray on the table and starts distributing the order between them. Coffee for him cacao for her, naturally. Sparkling brown eyes registers every little significant detail from her soft pale skin, the slightly red cheeks, the delicate white shirt, buttoned all the way up to her neck. What he is looking at now, is all he needs in this world. Leaning across the table, he covers, once again every square inch of this perfectness with kisses. 

They disappear into each other, not noticing a single movement or sound around them. 

She reaches a hand out and plays with the small curls, the undercurrent, of his chestnut brown head of hair: "William come on, you can´t postpone it any longer". She looks at him waiting for a reply, which doesn't seem to come. After a minutes of silence she moves closer and whispers in his ear: "It's OK, I'm OK...I promise”.

Focused on the spoon playing hand, he is trying to foresee, what could happen if Nico is home. He is not sure, what worries him the most, his hatred for Nico on the loose or the mental upper hand the big brother seem to have on him. Noora says the best way to deal with Nico is by going through the legal system, eventually a lawsuit. She is probably right, but by god, beating the living daylights out of him, would have been a treat .

Her thumb on his chin gently directs his face upwards: “Hey you...look at me", he stares into her eyes, searching for something, the way he always does. Bewildered not knowing, how to deal with this new side of him she hasn't seen before, Noora puts his spoon-playing hand to rest by covering his hand with hers. The way she always does. 

Back in paradise yesterday, Noora was the one, who suggested he went back to his home, if not for anything else, then to pick up some of his stuff; she would go with him and added she wasn’t afraid of Nico. He has already decided his friends are less important to him than Noora. He also knows the sick bond to Nico must be broken. His mom and sister have been out of the picture for years. Deep down he understands the danger, which walks hand in hand with this new world order. 

The fact that he will be alone, if or when Noora leaves him.

She finally persuades him to get up and leave. She takes his hand as they cross the street. The rate of his beating heart increases the closer they get to the building. Reluctantly William opens the front door and Noora takes the lead almost dragging him after her. The warmth from her hand and the confidence she irradiates rubs off on him, he should be supporting her, this is not right. 

Once inside the apartment William sees everything in a new light. The difference between the old stylish staircase in dark mahogany wood, and stucco on the ceiling and the modern vibe of steel and light wooden floors inside the apartment. Mom initiated the renovation, when they first moved here 8 years ago. Was she planning to make a real home here - and stay? 

They walk from room to room in silence; the smell of detergent lingers in the air, every surface spotlessly clean.

The living room, a huge room with stylish grey and white furniture, is empty.

Williams’s room, Nico’s room and the ever-vacant master bedroom, each one of them; impersonal – and empty. 

Inspired by Nooras colorful room, with small tokens from travels aboard, post cards from friends and home painted furniture, William feels the cold atmosphere of his own home. He is choking in here, bad memories one by one overwhelms him. Worried he has reached his quota for exposing darkness, (better to unload in smaller portions), he remains silent.

Once they get to the kitchen William is convinced Nico is not there. Nevertheless, he looks anxiously up the stairs to the roof terrace, just to make sure. Noora is not worried or is she? He can’t tell. The thought of her being in this room with Nico is so sickening, he exercises a mental split, refined over many years. His soul flies out of his body and lands on the top of the stairs looking down upon the two of them, leaving him, emotionless facing Noora. His mouth; a thin line, only a slight head shake reveals the uneasiness he feels about the situation. 

“He’s not here, so what do you want to do?”, she gently asks. "Just take back your apartment”.

She is trying to be supportive, he knows and Nico is not here thank god for that. This was a bad idea from the start. He looks indifferent out the window, is leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“I can’t live here.”

“You can’t run from your brother for the rest of your life.” She dictates with a raised voice. "You have to face him, look him in the eye and tell him, he is a god damn looser. Be done with it.” 

Be done with it…are you fucking kidding me, he thinks and stares straight at her, the other ego on top of the stairs; climbing back in. Shredding Nico is not as simple as; looking him in the eye, and telling him he is a looser. It runs deeper, than that. She is clueless and she can forget this chit chatting about Nico…why he is such a dick and...why William still can't handle him. We are not doing that, he thinks. He stares at her, all color drenched from his face, shoulders sagging. 

“That’s not how it works; I don’t know, what I would have done, if he was here”. 

Noora seems to finally understand it is time for a change of subject. She diverts from the Nico situation to the other elephant in the room: If he will not stay in the apartment, where will he live? To William this is an easy one. He is going to buy a new place, knowing this way of solving a problem is not really Nooras cup of tea. 

As much as William wants to follow this girl to the moon and back, he does have one problem – dad. The purchase of the loft apartment in London is practically a done deal. Dad is the one person in the world – besides Noora, he doesn't want to let down. Right now, he has no idea how to solve this dilemma. This weekend he crossed a line into this spectacular new world of being two. A loft apartment in the best neighborhood in London or even his dad’s stern face is not going to take that away from him. All of this is running though his mind, while they talk about a new apartment and a plan begins to take form. She could move in with him. As he looks at her, the warmth returns to his eyes. Fuck everything he is just going to ask, straight out, but as his lips start forming the question, he knows there is a possibility she might say no. This makes him insecure, so he reruns the sentence in his head a few times:

He takes in a deep breath, “Do you want to move in with me?”, smiling nervously as if he was asking her out for the first time. 

The way Nooras face lights up, tells him she wants to and any doubts he may have had is gone. William also knows her well enough to understand the sensible Noora is fighting a battle with the much weaker, impulsive Noora. He walks up to her, runs his hands through her hair, his thumbs on her chin gently forcing her to look him in the eyes - his deep brown eyes, “Say yes, For once, stop thinking about what’s right and wrong and just do what you want to do”.

When she says yes, his world is complete. 

This heavenly moment must be preserved….and…stretched and milked. They seal the deal with a series of heavy making out. She wants him, he knows, but in fear of loosing her or messing things up again, he respects her wish, not to have sex. He also understands why she wants to wait. She told him the other night. She trusts him now and it took a whole lot of heartache for that to happen. 

London and dad will have to wait.


	8. We

The new William put his trust in the legal institutions and confessed at the police hearing today. His girlfriend spent four hours outside waiting, concerned, rooting, eventually proud, because he did the right thing. 

It felt like coming home.

The new William move around Oslo by foot or triggen and those older couples, who pass him and his girlfriend on the street, cannot help but smile; as they recall a younger, more potent version of themselves.

The new William loves to squeeze words like “girlfriend” and “we” into as many sentences as possible. “My girlfriend and I are having a party”, he informed the woman at the cashier, scanning the one hundred or so different brands of beer and the many bottles of wine and champagne, he bought for tonight’s party.

“Rooftop party, bro, WE are inviting everyone” he said to Chris, hoping the same bro would come over and give a much needed hand.

Chris was not amused. “We! You mean you and me, bro?”

The champagne coolers and the glasses are in the top cabinet in the corner above the oven. William is standing on a chair grabbing two glasses at a time, handing them to Chris, who in return put them on the kitchen counter. Thirty wine glasses, thirty for champagne and fifteen coolers. When William hosts a party there are no short cuts. 

After the bar is set up Chris and William share a large beer, and discuss where to plug in the music. Nooras priority has been cleaning the rooftop terrace. This job is taken so seriously, he hasn't seen her, since she went up there an hour ago. This is going to be fun, fuck London, dad, prison, yakuza even Nico, it is time to party. Noora and William took back the apartment two hours ago, but only because William felt certain, Nico had fled to Stockholm, at least for the time being. 

The bro’s are pretty much set, when people start showing up.

First, to arrive are Eva and Vilde, carrying a bunch of branches apparently on request from Noora, who wants to add a female touch to the otherwise macho penetrator brand. “Great place you’ve got”, Eva says to William, when they enter the kitchen space. She has been here before, but never sober and never in broad daylight. Vilde, on the other hand, who has seen it all before, remains quiet.

The girls search the kitchen for somewhere to put the branches. There is an awkward silence. Chris looks from Eva and Vilde to William with lifted eyebrows: “Branches from Eva’s garden, bro, for decoration?” Snapping his fingers in front of Williams’s eyes, mimicking a silent “Hallo”. 

Unsuccessfully trying to tuck the stubborn lock of hair behind his ear, William wakes up: “Ehh... Noora is upstairs...”. He turns to Chris for support: “Can you show Eva and Vilde the way…Chris? I’ll finish down here on my own”. 

Busy filling a bucket with soft drinks, he is interrupted when, what sounds like an elephant, is trampling outside the front door. It's Eskil and Linn, carrying a big box between them, breathing heavily. Eskil needs a minute to catch his breath again before he starts babbling: “Orders from Noora”. His face first turns horizontally to scan the premises and then vertically to check out William: “Looking good Willi. Olala...niiice...is Noora moving in?” William pretends not to hear the question and asks about the content of the boxes instead. Eskil smirks, flirts, and manage to make William laugh, which is an accomplishment in itself. The boxes turn out to contain chains of colored lamp bulbs and other types of decorations. Before the they climb the stairs to the rooftop, William hand Linn two bottles of wine and puts some beers on top of everything else in the box. "Lets get this party started". 

William can't relax until the music finally arrives. It takes five guys to carry the penetrators top notch DJ-gear up the stairs. He is chopping up ice and greets them with an elbow held high. They know the drill and the premises and soon, one by one, help them self to beer from the fridge. Jullian slaps William on the back, already half-drunk from the pre-party at Borkis: “Hey man, good to see you, we thought, they would have you all locked up by now”. The short version of today’s interview is shared. They are all talking at the same time, some agree with the choice others are surprised and puzzled looking curiously at the new William standing before them. 

More people start to arrive and everyone relocates to the rooftop to get the music up and going.

The rays of the evening sun wraps the terrace in a golden light. Branches and colorful light bulbs attached to the railing has transformed the space into a Mexican hacienda. The selection of alcohol and sodas at the bar is so generous; some guests are taking the liberty of drinking directly from the bottles. The pumping beat of the music crawls into their bones and soon a big group of people form a spontaneous dancefloor in the center of the hacienda. Linn and Eskil are head banging, Chris, who is a brilliant dancer, is showing off in front of a female audience, Sara in first row.

William is in no need to be the center of attention. Standing by the bar, he is happily chatting with his friends, drinking beer, every now and then searching for a glimpse of his girlfriend. When his eyes land on her radiant face on the other side of the terrace, his face lights up. He cannot remember seeing her smile this big. She looks so damn happy and secretly he prays it is because of him, and not solely because she is with her friends. 

Borkis is talking about summer vacation. The guys are planning a trip to Mallorca after graduation. William has five unanswered texts from his dad to remind him, he is probably not going anywhere besides London. He still has not talked to Noora about any of this. Nevertheless, the alcohol in his blood, the infectious energy from the dancing crowd and the pure happiness of being in love, makes William feel certain things will work out. 

The conversation once again lands on the confession; most of his friends had not seen this coming.  
“You know what’s really fucked up; I don’t even care about that shit anymore. My seventeen year old girlfriend tells me it’s time to grow up”. He says, focusing on one of Eskils green party bulbs at the other side of the terrace, under which his girlfriend happens to be standing. This time he tries to catch her eyes, but gets distracted, when someone blocs his vision. 

He greets Mari with a peck on both cheeks. In return, she throws herself and William into an elaborate conversation about an exam gone wrong this week. She is worried about her final grade. William tries to encourage her, smiling a bit more than he usually does.

“Everything OK with you?” she asks, winking at him.

“Mmmmm” . He always liked her a lot. Borkis reaches out a hand to introduce himself, but Mari ignores him and moves closer to William instead. The music is so loud she has to lean forward and shout in his ear:

“You look happy…all though it’s hard to tell with you... I talked to your girlfriend the other day, about Nico…and you”.

Williams stares into the ground for a few seconds and then lifts his head to zoom in on a pair of dancing heads of red hair somewhere on the other side of the dance floor: “Nico and me? Not much to say really”. Still fixed on the redheads he wonders for a second if Linn and Eskil are related. Cousins perhaps?

“Bullshit William”. Mari shakes her head and squeeze his arm, “There is a book as long as the bible to say about this. Don’t underestimate her; you need to let your girlfriend in to your mind”. She points at his temple.

Blank faced, he looks at her and offers a refill. Maneuvered back in position, Borkis luckily starts rolling out his charm again; William retreats and finds Seb and Jullian standing on the edge of the terrace leaning against the railing. He halfheartedly joins their conversation about life after graduation. No fucking way is he going to waste a single thought on Nico now. He makes a mind note to avoid Mari for the rest of the night. 

It has been a long day and to his own surprise, he would rather be alone with Noora somewhere else, than being here. His eyes once again find her, this time in deep conversation with Eskil, Eva and he recognize Jonas the curly haired guy with the huge eyebrows, and Isak, the guy who according to Eskil is not gay. Both of them were at the infamous fight with Yakusa. He never really talked to any of them. Part of him, wants to go over and say hello, maybe officially introduce himself as Nooras boyfriend. However, he is not comfortable with this new role. Not the boyfriend to Noora part, but the boyfriend of someone’s best friend part. This implicates putting in an effort to make them like him. As long as he is in control maybe even in charge, he can be funny and likeable, but when his prime role is to be someone else than one of the guys, or the rich kid, or even the generous host of these elaborate parties, in his mind, it is kind of uphill. He is not sure, what they think about him. Therefore, he stays with his familiar crew, drinking beer laughing, keeping an eye out for her. 

After a few more beers and laughs, the world stands still and in his head, the voices of his friends and the music disappears. He looks in the direction, where he saw her last and there she is, only a few meters from him standing in middle of a dancing sea. Their eyes meet and lock. Rapidly rotating forces makes them the only fixed center, around which the dim foggy mass of their surroundings circulate. The high dosage of the right hormones, released into his blood at the sight of her, initiates another circular force within his own body pumping liquid love into every single cell.  
They take in each other with such intensity; he knows, soon she will be in his arms.

The exchange of words begins with a text, his: “I like it, when you stand there and look at me” and the result unfolds in Williams’s bedroom not long after.

\----------

Like everything else with Noora, making love was not remotely like anything, he has experienced before. Sex is great, he knows, but this was so much more than that. This was heaven. 

They lock the door, so that the likes of Eskil cannot hunt them down, and stay in bed like two naughty kids, who hide to get out of cleaning the kitchen after dinner. 

The sounds of their friend’s voices and the music is fading. Soon gone. Finally it’s down to the two of them. 

Noora is sitting with her legs stretched out on the bed and her back against the wall.  
  
His head in her lap. Her hand playing with his hair. 

“You know my plans for the next two years,…but I have no idea what yours are?  
Except if prison happens.  
What you are going to do about the missing exams?  
Do you want to start school next semester or take a gap year?  
Eva told me you had plans to move to London...long before you ran away from me.  
Can we talk…about this?”

She dropped the bomb before he had a chance to plan the speech. 

William pulls away from her, stares into the ceiling, lying on his back. “Wow a lot of questions, Noora“. He pauses, scratching his head. In this moment he realizes, that while his desire to go for it in London doesn’t rank as high as his love for Noora, it’s definitely something he would hate to miss. 

It has been 10 years since his dad mentioned the possibility of him moving to London “When you get older”. He remembers asking many times, if he was old enough. At last, it became clear to him, old enough meant after high school. 

A whisper from Noora: "Du?", reminds him, she is waiting for him to say something. His heart stings in that unscratchable way. This is not easy.

“Noora, if I'am lucky...and able to travel after the court decision,...and then,...if I asked you to move to London with me,... would you?” He turns to lie on the side and face her: “Before you answer, I want you to know, I already have an apartment, and as of August 1st probably a job”. He bites his lip, but holds the stare. 

There is a lot more to say, but he is saving it, until he knows, where she stands. It’s hard to read her. Noora looks at him, confused or maybe mad. She climbs up from her position next to him, her eyes drift to the pile of clothes, she left at the side of the bed, and next he knows, she is on her feet pulling a shirt over her head. His reptile brain is waking up from somewhere deep within, but he doesn’t give in to the impulsive need to protect himself. Instead, he grabs her wrist and gently pull her back next to him sitting on the bed. One hand holding her hand, the other caressing her arm.

“Okay, picture this; a big loft apartment in an artsy trendy neighborhood. You can go back to Oslo as much as you want…and if we choose to stay longer, you can apply to a school of your own choice. They have the best schools in the UK. Consider this a gap year or a kind of extended honeymoon. Just give it a shot and go home if you don’t like it. That’s all. No big deal”

She turns to face him again, shaking her head: “No big deal? In which world do you live? I have to give up school, my friends, everything”

“Noora, it takes two hours by plane to get home from London, a train ride to Bergen takes more than six hours!”  
He cubs her face with his hands and lowers his voice”: “I want to be with you…live with you...The plan to move to London has been on the table long…long, before you came into my life. My dad has lived there for years. Growing up, I did not get to spend as much time with him…as I should have. I’ve always wanted to give London and him a chance…”

He looks deep into her eyes, searching: “…but…if we can't be together, I will not go”.


	9. Rain

The letter was on the kitchen counter, when he came home from work.

“Noora”, he calls into the living room, while taking of his wet shoes and coat. Hello foggy and wet October, goodbye, Indian summer. This change in weather might just add another con to Nooras list, he worries. The honeymoon was over, when he started working. Things are still great between them, but Noora is to smart and outgoing, to be socially or intellectually starved. Her love for him is unquestionable, what keeps her here and probably the only thing on the plus side of her list. That is, if she has one of those - it would be so like her. He scannes the entre for any sign of his girlfriend being home. Her favorite shoes are not in their usual spot and her coat not on a hanger. She must be out somewhere.

The takeaway food in the paper bag smells delicious. He was looking forward to surprising her with food from the organic deli down the street, that she loves so much. He is starving, but eating dinner together is their thing, so instead, he puts the food in the fridge, grabs a coke and throws himself into the couch. The favorite channel nowadays, CNBC is running in the background, while he is conscious of every little sound from the entre resembling the front door opening. Half dreaming and half listening, he drifts off to the buzz from Wall Street. Maybe someday they could move over-there, a new beginning for the both of them.

His stomachs growling wakes him up, the clock says way past dinnertime. The room is dark by now, disorientated, not knowing for how long he has been out, he calls her name again. Still not home, no texts either, he decides to have a bite anyway and relocates to the kitchen. Was she visiting Tate Modern today? Waiting for the food to heat up, he notices the piece of paper on the counter again and when he realizes, the letter is from the prosecution authority, a mixture of curiosity and fear leads him to pick it up and read.

“Regarding the case against Nicolai Magnussen a decision has been made to take no further action on the complaint, due to missing evidence or oral testimony, necessary for giving the judgment”

He doesn’t hear the sound of keys opening the front door and he couldn’t say for how long he has been standing there frozen with the letter in his hand.

“I could not do it”, she says.

She has been watching him from the doorway for a while. Even though it is raining outside and her hair is wet, he knows the wet eyes, are because of tears and not the rain. She probably left this letter here on purpose for him to read, when he was by himself.

He manages to shut out the pain in his chest and his beating heart and take her in his arms. Unable to say a word he desperately tries to sort out his mind, hugging her tight, buying time, regaining control. Images are starting to swirl, especially one of Nico laughing out loud, him running on a beach, the car, her hair, always her hair, why not her face, her cute face and her beautiful eyes. He knows his mind is sick and he knows dealing with this bullshit, is beyond him. There is nowhere to run. It is just the two of them. She depends on him. He feels trapped and cheated. He is so confused and fucking pissed at the same time. Nico is probably out somewhere celebrating right now, and Noora is here with him in a bad state. He worries about her sinking, as she did after Nico’s assault in the spring. They will not get to hit the last nail into the coffin; he was hoping to put Nico in. Metaphorically speaking. 

They stand in the kitchen for a long time holding each other. He cannot be the wise boyfriend with the right words now. He doesn’t fucking know what to say. 

His own plate of food is still in the microwave. He opens the fridge and begins to make a plate for her:  
“I bought daal, from the little shop around the corner”. He tries to keep his voice steady. Only he can tell the plate is shaking slightly, when he hands it to her:

“Hey, I understand, have some food and then tell me, what happened…I guess I should have killed that bastard after all.”

The last sentence was meant as a joke, but his voice is betraying him. It comes out cold. His mouth is nothing but a line. Hell, he has refined this vacant face over the years for situations just like this one. The bitterly disappointing ones, where you expected so much more, than you got, and then you learnt the hard way not to expect anything and you had to find a way to make the pain go away.

She tries to explain, while they eat. She went to Oslo, even made it to the court building and then turned in the last minute.

“I couldn’t, I’m sorry,” She repeats for the third time.

“It’s OK, you tried. It's not your fault.” 

“I mean, I am sorry I couldn’t tell you”.

The more she speaks, the more he refines his thinking. He knows expecting her to save him from Nico, was too much to lay on her shoulders. She did not sign up for a psychopath brother in law. It is his burden and not her responsibility. The fucking lying, however, turns this into a double defeat. She had him fooled for more than a month, since she came back from Oslo. This explains her behavior lately, the quietness and the lack of sparkle in her eyes. Painfully reminded of her actions after Nico this spring, he now has the same sense of betrayal. He chose to trust the law, how pathetic is that? He chose to trust her too. He is trapped, she’s the victim not him. Searching for an outlet, he contemplates his options: Run, shout, drink or just sit here and pretend everything is OK?

After dinner, she takes a shower. He is sitting in the couch staring at a huge painting on the wall. Of all the places he has lived, he has never felt more at home, than this apartment. Her mere existence made this a home. Her shoes in the entre. The neatly wrapped food on the shelves in the fridge. The light in their windows, when he looks up on the walk home from the subway. Her warm body, right there next to him, when he wakes up at night and her reassuring smile, when she can tell, his day has been a rough one. 

She comes into the living room, wet hair again, wearing his t-shirt, and crawls into the couch, her body searching for some warmth. His hand is a comb stroking her hair softly and after a while, she is lying with her head in his lap sleeping. Feeling safe in his arms. She had been walking the streets for hours, afraid to come back and face him. He grabs a quilt hanging on the arm of the sofa and cover her bare legs, to protect her from the cold. 

They need to move on without the closure he so desperately needed. The rain is playing drum on the windows. That painting on the wall is from his grandparents’ house. His dad must have hung it here before they moved in. The figures come a live at night, Nico used to say. 

He recalls her words back in Oslo, the day she wanted him to take back the apartment: “You have to just face him and tell him, he is a fucking looser: Be done with it”. He is never going to be done with Nico. It’s fucking hopeless. Nico came back once again to haunt him and the girl he loves. Instead of being a the solid rock she can lean on, he has become a rock chained to her leg, just like Nico is chained to him.

He gently places her left arm around his shoulders and slides an arm under her back and another under her legs. She wakes up, but let him carry her into bed, anyway: “Don’t leave me”, she mumbles into his neck.  
“Never”, he whispers, while tucking her in, kissing her softly on the cheek. 

\--------------

The next morning he is off to work, before she wakes up.


	10. #2: January 10th, 2017

“When Amalie died, people stopped mentioning her name all together. Family friends stopped coming around. My friends avoided eye contact. Talking about death makes people; me uncomfortable. It’s not fun. Grief seems to put a filter between you and the world - making it difficult to talk and enjoy company”. 

“I was in the backseat next to her and my brother Nico was driving the car ………….. . I think I passed out........ I know, I broke my arm and a few ribs and was in a hospital for a while.......... During the first month, I was in a deep, thick fog". 

"My brother and I stayed at our grandparents. I think they were the ones to tell us she was gone. …….Their big house in central Oslo was creepy and big. My brother said the figures in the paintings came alive at night.............. I wanted my mom to be there so bad. I was afraid of losing her too. 

The only space, I found some kind of peace was in the blue room. Walls painted blue and this soft blue wall-to-wall carpet. I would lie there for hours pretending, I was in heaven with Amalie. This pretend world was real...... to me. We had long conversations and continued life, as if she was still here. The blue world was competing with images and sounds of broken glass, metal crashing into something, screaming ..........and me trying to change what had happened, rewinding time or whatever it would take for her to still be here. I stayed in that fluffy blue world until I couldn't picture her face anymore…”.

“I did not want to believe any of it. I still do not. I still haven't accepted the fact that my sister, who I was supposed to protect, is gone forever and there isn't a single thing anyone can do to change that. At twenty, I am on my own. My parents, divorced. My brother’s sick mind only gets worse”.

“I cannot talk about these things. I shut down before I can feel the pain …I know I should…..learn how to….....to be better...for you and for myself. I have never really opened up until now……………….”

“I wish I could spend this day with you.” 

“Why did you leave without a word?”.


	11. #3: January 20th, 2017

“At our first confrontation you asked me, if my bad behavior was due to the fact, that my mom never praised my drawings …or my dad never showed up at school events".

"You were wrong! It was the other way around. ..................................My mom never showed up for anything”.

“Moms grief …………..like mine……….. I guess…….. is quiet. Unlike Nico and my dads……. their grief is loud”. 

“After dad left, we were down to three in the house. We moved into a big apartment in the city. With that move came a change of school and a new beginning for me. My mom, however, was sinking...and drinking... Nico sucked the last reserves out of her. I took on the part of being the opposite of Nico – not in need of her attention. I could take care of myself……..." 

"I think she thought, I didn’t need her anymore………….which for her was a perfect excuse to decline any invitations from my school”. 

“Maybe she needed attention, just wanted someone to take care of her............ or maybe she knew she had to do something – not to drown …………….or maybe Nico was too much......or maybe I was not kind enough to her. What the fuck do I know………………… Eventually a new man came in to her life and after a while, she left the sinkning ship........They got married and moved to the island of Snarøya. Since Nico and I had settled in well at school, mom felt it would be best for us to stay in the big apartment in Oslo. I agreed……….. I think I was 13 ……………….and I had Maria, Lucia etc...au pairs, who came and left”.

“How lucky was I? My room was always tidy, bed made, shirts clean and ironed, food in the fridge. And as I got older, I was that guy, who had the biggest parties without spending all of next day cleaning”.

“I guess I missed her. We were close before everything went wrong. Or I think we were. I can’t say I give a shit about her today. I hate her. You see, what actually happened was, that my mom just gave up.....................and left me alone to deal with Nico”.

“No matter what you said in the kitchen, the first night we spent together, I believe, I fucking earned the right to call my mom a FITTE.”


	12. #4: February 2nd, 2017

”You said, I was the biggest Cliché you had ever met. I get what you meant….and I guess I was….or from what everybody in high school saw………… I was…………………….Great friends, girls, penthouse apartment, no intruding parents, no chores, visa card………unlimited credit and to complete the picture an awesome car. …………………… ………………….. Never mind all that……………..the best part of high school FOR ME was Nico moving to Stockholm”.

“I think, I am supposed to say something meaningful about Nico and me……our story……but………this is a tough one for me”.

“The short version: I was abused by my brother for years and left on my own to deal with it. …………………..No one will ever understand, how hard this is for me to say.……… ”.

“The longer version: Nico is complicated. Mom’s first child by another man. Nico has always been….disturbed…. and when my sister and I came……………….there was a constant reminder of what he never got. Our dad didn't care about Nico and it probably made things worse. He often got hysterical………..Once he threatened to push our little sister out of the window. ………….Mom had to lock the door to his room at night, he would scream ……………….and then I remember, she turned up the music,... until the sounds of Nico ………….faded”.

“As Nico got older he became a master manipulator. He uses his charm to get, what he wants from people. …….I don’t know why…….but he is always very conscious of, what I care about, and then……… he finds a way destroy it……………..The only way I know, to protect myself, is to hide how I feel about things, especially things that mean something to me. Showing feelings gives away too much information, for him to use against me …………………………………”.

“But Nico was after all the only company left, when the others had left………. and sometimes we did have fun……………….. in between the madness……”.

First time you met Nico in my kitchen, he rolled out his charm. He does it so well, you have to be a pro to see, he is fooling you………………………. The problem with Nico is, you never know, which trick he is going to pull. ………………I wanted to protect you. My tactics were to keep you away from him, and make sure Nico never found out…..that you were someone (you still are) ………for the first time really, ………who meant (means) everything to me………………………... I forgot you were not some piece in a chess game, I controlled (sorry)”.

“It breaks my heart that Nico won again…………………. I lost you ………………and he never got to pay for what he did…..”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very hard to write. At 20, I don't think William really understand the impact growing up with Nico, must have had on him. I believe he is ashamed of the fact, that he was supressed by his brother and often probably couldn't stand up for himself. Therefore, admitting he was abused (physically or mentally) is a very big deal for him. However, we don’t really know the details of their relationship. I believe the things Nico told Noora about William were actually real stories about himself.  
> What do you guys out there think about the psycological aspects of this relationsship? Please comment if you have anything to say.  
> If you are interested in Williams’s relationship with Nico and many other interesting aspects of him, I suggest you read (from the first post) this Instagram account: https://www.instagram.com/i_need_something_to_rely_on/  
> I have to credit the writer of these posts, since I was inspired her/his theories.  
> Whoever you are, I hope someday you read this and leave a comment.


	13. #5: February 11th, 2017

“After the divorce my dad moved to London, where he had worked before. …I guess he dealt with the loss of his daughter by burying himself in work……. I don’t think he could find it in his heart to forgive Nico, even though Nico was only 11……so I went to London for visits on my own”.

“As a kid he gave me everything I wanted except his time ……as I got older, he let me into his adult world. Going out, meeting women, work…... The plan to relocate after high school was his, but I wanted to ………..and now that I’m living here working in finance like him, I feel a deeper….connection”. 

“I know you think I put him up on a pedestal, where he doesn’t belong. The thing is……….he is predictable unlike my mom,…. and he cares……... how I do in school. ……..my career ……..my future………..me being here. He expects me to do my best and be successful …like himself;………and........I don’t see what’s wrong with that. I …think deep down he needs me…………..and I need to earn that affection by doing my best”. 

“I thought you understood................ but I guess I was wrong.....or maybe I just pushed the agenda for you to come with me to London too hard, too soon.... ”.


	14. #6: February 27th, 2017

“Loyalty is important to me, I need to know, I can trust and count on a person before I let them in…..and I try to be loyal in return…..to the people I let in…………….. to be honest I don't let many people in, ………actually……… you were the only one…….. I let all the way in.”

“I have spent a lot time by myself....I don't really mind, because I know there are people out there,....if I call... they will be there for me...anytime...........my friends are like that......I think...and I am there for them, if they need me.... .....In my head the logic is this: If my friends can't count on me, how can I trust them to be there for me?" 

"Chris is my best friend.…Chris knows me better than anyone and I trust him. That doesn't mean he knows everything ..."

"Apparently, I have many labels stamped to my forehead: I am a fuckboy, an asshole, a chliché .......... and I was the coolest guy in school and...then ofcause there is penetrator William and your favorite ...Wilhelm. Adding all these and you get my brand...... I was that person the girls wanted to be with, and the guys wanted to be............. I know it sounds pretentious....but this was me in VG. The ironic part is this, deep down, I am not outgoing ....and this image was suffocating me............. and then...you came along and after I while I understood, to win your heart, I had to change...

"I liked me better with you."

" I used to be a warrior.... I fought so hard to win you over. I don't know, why I stopped."


	15. #7: March 15th, 2017

“Today one year ago exactly, I parked my car in front of your apartment. This was the night of the date, I had waited three months for….Our first... you definitely thought this was our first ….and last date. You were incredibly hostile mocked every part of my plan………. You said I had manipulated you …you didn’t really want to be there nor have anything to do with me. ………….At one point, I thought you were beginning to thaw, but then Chris called from down town, where he and the other guys had been in a confrontation with Yakusa…….This was the first time I chose my friends over you.”

“In a way, that date was a failure. You made sure to tell me, you had lived up to your end of the deal, and didn’t owe me anything anymore. Acknowledging the defeat at last,………….. I just said yes, and thought this was the end of it.” 

“Half an hour later I was at the scene of the fight. The enemy had fled; my three best friends were waiting for me, bruised and frustrated. Yakusa were actually after me, but Chris & Co. were the ones, who got their ass kicked. I drove them to the hospital, where we spent most of the night waiting for them to get patched up. The next two days we all hung out at my place, for distraction planning a big party for the weekend after, ..and then Monday morning I drove all of us to school. I felt fucking guilty………… ashamed actually….walking into the schoolyard,…such an obvious sissy, a coward, who had let my friends down, when they needed me the most.”

“Next time I talked to you was one week later. Surprisingly you turned up late for the party at my apartment, looking beautiful……. and somewhat friendly……………Apparently Vilde unwillingly brought us together again. You wanted to know, if I had told Vilde anything about our date. Vilde came on to me …………..and I honestly tried to be nicer, when……… once again, … I told her I wasn’t interested." 

"What at first seemed like bad luck turned out to be the best thing …..the police came and stopped the party. The music was too loud the neighbor had complained ……so I had to send everybody home. Last ones standing was the two of us. …I remember you questioned me about my family and why, I was living by myself. I got that question a lot………. Anyway, this was the only dissonance, ……in an otherwise magical night… you were lovely in every sense of the word.... Accusing me of being a player and then played me completely,… crushed me actually.”

“For some strange reason, I just knew you liked me, even when you said “neeei”, and in spite of the empty space next to me, when I woke up the next morning...alone again...I knew..... I crossed a line that night………………….. I guess…for the first time....really…..I fell in love…” 

“Easter break came between us after that. I went to Trysil with the guys. We had a great time, drinking, skiing, partying which went too far………………ending up in a lot of damage. In the mist of it all was me, penetrator William, .....distracted, .......daydreaming........ about you….…"

“Back at school, my focus was on meeting you again, more so than the activities we had launched to raise money for the mess we made in Trysil. …I found you by the lockers, glowing. Feeling unusual nervous, I put forward my carefully planned opening line: “Fy fan, it’s great to see you again”……but..., whatever was between us only two weekends ago apparently had vanished . You were back to your old ways, mocking the auction ......And then you started takling about the refugees from Syria. …followed by a speech on people dying …then closed the locker with a bam and trotted off, chin held high.”

“Not ready to give up yet, ………………I had to pull off some creative thinking and figured the only thing I could do to get you to come to the auction party, was to persuade the guys to donate part of our profit to the refugees. I made sure to put in a bid for myself at 3000 kr., thinking no one would be able to top that... I told you about it, hoping you would understand…………you were the only one I wanted to be with………….”

“You came….The whole night I knew exactly, where you were…. I also knew you kept an eye on me. When you eventually came up to me; worried about the announcement of the winner, concerned about Vilde….. again …honestly just bitching………now you implied I was a person, you could not trust, a big ego….. I guess it got to a point, where I just had had enough of this…game….It wasn’t fun anymore.”

“When I gave you the ultimatum: Tell me you don’t like me and I’m gone………… I knew you would say you liked me,…..but you didn’t,………. which was a knife in my heart………So I left right then and there, as promised…………thinking for the second time in our history, this was it. You followed me into the night, yelled at me again…..business as usual….and finally just as I was about to leave…………you kissed me. 

(I can close my eyes anytime......anywhere and recall this first kiss....fucking hell...that makes me sad.)”

“This was a turning point. After this day I thought of you as my girlfriend ... ..(which, I guess... you are not anymore ….. .)”

“(You are the butterfly...playful...colorful... and I am the moth....dark... moody…..or so I thought..... The more I get to know you the more I realize, You are every bit as dark as me. ……….This is the deep connection between us …………..other people don’t get. The first time I saw a glimpse of your shadows, was when you told me your parents didn't love you. I guess it made me think ….one day you might understand……..me. ..and I knew, how much you needed to trust me before you could really be mine. From then on and up until the Yakusa fight, things between us got better and better. You didn’t want anyone to know……..because of Vilde,………….You said. It was bullshit, but hey I agreed.” 

“The first bus party ended in disaster because Yakusa came. I didn’t know and when my friends wanted me, I had no choice but to go. ...couldn't let them down a second time... I know, I chose my friends over you again and this fight was far out.……I can’t say, what went through my mind,…….I guess….I just saw the enemy and enjoyed smashing him. I can’t defend it in any way……… I wasn’t sure what you saw, but had a bad feeling, when I got a text late at night, asking if we should go for a walk the next morning.”

“When I saw you,………..I just knew you had seen the whole thing. Nothing was remotely like the week before. You were distant. I was nervous, ……... I knew you well enough by then to understand, the fighting was not in line with your high standard of moral. I gave some lame talk………you could not be with a person who smashed bottles into other peoples heads, you said………. My heart sank as I turned around and left…you had called the space card and I gave you space.” 

“The activities with our bus, took off during this period…and when we left for Lillehammer Friday after school, a week later, I still had not heard from you. During the two-hour party-drive to Lillehammer, I drank to forget my sorrows. It began to dawn on me; I could loose you……………..In the cabin the next morning, I woke up early - next to four smelly friends. Hung over, and desperate to hear your voice, hoping everything wasn’t lost, I decided to call you. My phone, however, was gone. I found it in the bus with just enough battery left to notice, you had called me 6 TIMES…..heart on fire, believing this was a positive sign. I wrote you a text…I don’t remember the exact words, but I do remember: “Elsker deg"…………”

“The rest of the weekend was crap. Keeping my all too silent phone close, starring at it, waiting for the characteristic light and pling indicating an incoming text, noticing Chris’ disapproving look.....More than once, I considered taking a taxi back to Oslo, but stayed for the guys………”

“Back in Oslo late afternoon Sunday, Nico was still at home, the smell and leftovers from a party, he held in my absence, hung in the air (!). After several unanswered calls to you, I decided to show up at your doorstep; after all, you called me 6 times... I just needed to know, if I should be worried about you….. or about myself, ………………or whatever the fuck was going on. I had one focus in the world - to win you back…..I was beginning to understand, this meant more to me than anything else. More than the guys and more than my fucking pride. …”

“Still no answer as I called you from the car, driving towards centrum. Eskil buzzed me in. I rushed up the stairs, knocked on the apartment door, heart beating insanely.....You were not feeling well, Eskil said, standing in the doorway, with no intention of letting me in...Hallo, he had just said, you were home...... Apparently you were sleeping now…He's such a bad lier. My first reaction was fucking anger. Not feeling well, my ass…..(Why the fuck are you always doing this shit……sink into the ground………avoid confrontation, unavailable.... you're a fucking chicken. Just tell me if you want out,………..say something,………….do something).”

“However, by Monday morning, I still wasn’t ready to give up; I got my ass to school and waited. I caught you by the stairs after you had discussed writing an article with your Norwegian teacher. Finding it difficult to look me in the eye, you said the 6 calls were a mistake,…….space was still on and I should leave you alone…. My heart sank. So, for the third time, I tried to tell myself , I would be ok without you…Shut down. Russetime was still on…………..my friends needed me (I am trying to do that now, but its not working).”

“Last class the following Friday was chemistry. It was five days after you dismissed me on the stairs, two weeks after the bottle incident. Chris and I, preparing for our last weekend of activities before May 17th, were leaving the science lab...To my surprise, there you were waiting for me…………You grabbed my arm. I remember taking your hand and pulling you into the empty lab…….. Anxiously awaiting doomsday, I leaned my back against the door prepared to take whatever you would throw at me. But no …unpredictable as you are …instead of throwing accusations at me, you dropped what ever you had in your hands and ran up to me, flung your arms around my neck, hugged and kissed me, erasing any doubts I may have had………(it hurts to think about that now,……… I dream about you coming back to London, waiting for me outside my front door, and throwing yourself at me, just like you did back then………….)"

"I had to say my piece, when I had the chance,… I began explaining, why defending my friends was so important, and why this had led me to use a bottle to hit someone. My impossible family relations…. all of that came out of my mouth…..about Nico being a psychopath and how he always comes between, what I care about and me…...Chris, well not just Chris the whole bus crew was fucking waiting, which made everything forced and probably less well articulated than I had planned. Unfortunately I had to leave you sitting there on the table – alone, still looking pale and not at all happy.”

“Back to partying in the bus, I couldn’t care less about the bus, about the parties about anything, really….except you ….knowing you were still mine, was such a relief. The next day, Saturday, I was ready to ditch the whole russe-thing and instead cheer up my girl and take you to the beach. It was sunny and warm, well water not so warm,………….its Norway after all. I sent you a text, the cacao was already cooking in anticipation of your consent. However, you bailed….were not feeling well……again…you didn’t need anything. .....In other words me……. …I must have called you 10 times after that. No answer. WTF is up NOW. Just as I thought we were back on track……. You were messing big time with my brain, which by now, was working on overload creating theory after theory about what was going on? Maybe you were put off by my family-talk…..maybe the bottle incident was still a problem… or??“

“Eskil called me Monday. Now he was really worried about you and suggested I came over. I found you disturbingly different from the person I had gotten to know……nervous, pale and obviously unwell. After some pressure, you told me, you were worried about this article you had promised to hand in. You couldn’t sleep, your heart was pounding………..”

“I stayed and tried my best to let you know things would be fine.... When at last you were sleeping, I picked up the PC and tried to make some sense out of the notes you had scribbled. Next morning it took some convincing to get you to go to Eva’s brunch. It was after all May 17th…. My friends were one big question mark, where had I been all of the 16th, a major day in our bus crusade. I could not ditch them on the 17th. The parade and all that shit, so I dropped you off at Eva’s and drove straight to the meeting spot…. exhausted, but a happy dude. You had told me you loved me…………. From now on things would be good.”

“(….but nothing ever turns out well for us.)”

“After May 17th I had to focus on my exams..... the only distraction I allowed my self was writing the occasional texts to you,…………happy you actually responded. I felt good about us………………..right up until the next, but by far worst nightmare began. Nico, that fucking mean dick of an older brother I am burdened with, sent me a text, stating in his sleazeball way, he had slept with you at the party he held, when I was in Lillehammer. Plus the picture, Noora, the picture of you....I cannot to this day get out of my mind.”

“(I have experienced a lot of shit in my life; this shit ranks right up there with the rest.)........Bloody, fucking nightmarish horrendous............Somehow, in my twisted mind, ........all the puzzle bits suddenly fell into place. Your change from red lipstick bold and confident ….on the outside…to pale, evasive and angst ridden……I asked you head on, if this was true, and you said, you didn’t know.”

“Your friends, probably a whole lot of people, think I am a psychopath for what happened next. I couldn't wrap my head around it...it.......and all of this got mixed up with a nagging guilt. I should have protected you from him. I could have told you about him, and this would have never happened...So I shut down, left everything behind and flew to London.... to protect my self I guess.” 

“(I fought like a maniac for this relationship. This was the only time, I lost it, cut me some slack folks..)”

“My luck was your 180 degree turn around……..you became a warrior…, who broke my armor with a sharp tongue…………….and then assured me you loved me and we had to be together. Some tough love I deserved,for sure.” 

“After you entered my life I crossed many lines…..I changed for you.……. but the biggest impact and change happened the night between Friday and Saturday, the last weekend of May 2016.………..the first time you….saw……me……….all…of…me………….and I knew I could trust you with my heart.”


	16. #8: April 6th, 2017

Dear Noora,  
Today is your birthday and if you were here;  
I would wake you up with a cup of cacao and a kiss.  
I would stay home from work and spoil you all day.  
I would tell you, jeg elsker deg. I still do.  
My brain tells me you don’t love me anymore, but then I say to myself, I can win you back. I did win your heart once- against all odds, right?  
I haven’t heard from you in so long. How are you? Do you miss me? Think about me? Hate me?  
I know, I never opened up to you. I thought I did, because I cared so much. You know shit happened to me, but I don’t see myself as a victim. I am not. My life is great. But I understand now, that I have to deal with some of that shit. To win you back.  
Not long after you left, I tried seeing a shrink, but I couldn’t do it. All the bla bla and then some stranger looking silently at me waiting for me to say more bla bla, break down or whatever.  
When I called to cancel my second appointment, she suggested I tried talking about my life to someone so that it makes sense to me, so that I understand what happened. She said it would make me feel better and maybe understand, why I reacted the way I did, when you didn’t testify and lied about it or when I was such an asshole after Nico. “The only way out is through” she said. Sounds clever don’t y’a think :)  
I thought it was bullshit, but as time went by and I was as low as you can get (x-mas and New years we should have spent together right?), on my 20th birthday, I began recording.  
I just fucking talked Noora – to myself. The more I talked the more I wanted to talk to you. What you said and meant about different things somehow made its way into every recording. It means something Noora – to me – what you say and mean.  
I’ve decided to make transcripts of the whole thing, for you. I hope one day, I get the chance and have the guts to show you.  
I'm thinking about going back to Norway. Maybe lawschool. Maybe I'll bump into you again.  
You know, we have to be together, this is all wrong, me being here and you being there and the big cold North Sea between us.  
JED  
William


	17. #9: April 21st, 2017

Dear Noora,  
It has been six months and I think it is over. Chris was here last month. We went out and met some girls.  
Part of me wanted to hurt you by saying that.  
I need to move on.  
I applied to law school in Oslo, this means I will be back by August, no matter what.  
If you care at all, I think you would be proud of me. This is me saying, I don’t need to be this close to my dad. I haven’t told him.  
I don’t think you like him very much :)  
London wasn’t all bad, was it? At least not in the beginning.  
What I really want to say, is that I know talking you into coming with me was unfair. I should have known it was a one-sided deal. What was in it for you, except me?  
What happened? You went to Oslo to testify, came back and said things went well?  
I am still trying to understand.  
JED  
William  
PS: You are still my favorite girl.


	18. #10: May 13th, 2017

Noora,  
So I am out with some clients having a good time. Check my insta to show them something about Norway, which I never do, but I did tonight, shouldn’t have, then your picture of some looser Russe guys… pops up.  
Sorry I have no right. You’re not my girlfriend anymore, but I am just so fucking frustrated and...  
I am back home in our... my apartment. Drunk and pissed… It was a fun night.. actually... I am rocking this trainee position. I will be a rich successful dude one day - if that’s what I want. Then this lame picture- your life - without me. You moved on.  
“I kveld er det lov å være noe”, what the fuck does that even mean?  
Hey everyone knows,..I am the fuckboy, the manipulative dick, the pathological lier, a psychopath (like my brother) whatever. I am all of that. I have bad genes or became an asshole or whatever. I neglected you in London after you failed to witness and LIED about it. I have no excuse. I should have talked to you, told you it made me feel like SHIT, the fact that you DID NOT TRUST ME AFTER ALL WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH. And Nico... I don’t know.  
I ran into work and hid, just like my dad has been doing for years.  
I am all of those things. Guilty.  
But hey, you did this Noora: You, the love of my life, you packed all your shit, and left WITHOUT SAYING A FUCKING WORD, not a note, not a text. How fucked up is that? I am that guy, you hated so much, you made sure he came home to an empty apartment, no fair warning, not a note, a mail, a text, nothing. I take the blame for everything else, but you did that. Did you sit down and think.. well how can I hurt this Vilhelm asshole guy the most? Where’s that spot, where my poisonous sting will hurt him the most? Guess what, its probably leaving him WITHOUT A WORD. And hey, surprise....it fucking worked Noora, you hit bullseye with this one.  
So, ofcause I would hear from you at some point - WRONG- you sank into the ground, disappeared, like you always do.  
That load of shit was your doing... you did it. Own it! How can you love me, and do such a thing? Ohh sorry, I forgot, you don’t anymore. You are not the first to leave and...and I survive...and I will survive this too.  
You and your friends found some new russe guys to play with, or whatever. Life goes on.  
Except, I hate to think about that.  
I can't fight to win you back, only to find out, you don’t like me anymore.  
DISMISSED.  
So I stay and rot. Because in spite of all this shit we did, the both of us, I still care too fucking much.  
Nothing ends well for us.  
William  
PS: You will never see this anyway, so I don’t give a shit, if I sound like an asshole


	19. A million sparks

The school bus drops them off at the corner of Main Street and the small road leading up to their house. 

A pair of chestnut brown heads of hair, dark eyes and freckles.

The boy eagerly swings a stick through the stinging nettles. The girl is right behind him swinging her own stick. There is a silent understanding between them, which goes as far back, as he can remember. The last uphill stretch is tough and the backpacks heavy, but once they reach home, their effort is rewarded by a spectacular view. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud; multiple vertical sunrays plunges into the Oslo Fjord igniting millions of floating sparks on the water below.

On this particular day, they come home to an empty house. On the kitchen counter, there is a note: 

“Went downtown to pick up some stuff.  
Will be back for dinner.  
William, look out for your sister!  
xxoo Mom”

William finds the bread and the toaster, Amalie standing on a chair tracks down a Nutella jar hidden on the top shelf for special occasions - like right now - they agree. 

After the snack, the plan was to conquer Voldemort and move to the last level in the game dad brought home from London, but Amalie has a different agenda in mind. With red cheeks and bouncing curls, she pulls Williams arm trying to drag him off the chair. Stubbornly she pitches her idea of having fun, begging him to leave the controller behind and play with her. She knows he will give in eventually, he always does. 

William and Amalie look small in the extravagant master bedroom, where everything is big; the wardrobe covering the wall from left to right, the bed, the mirror on the wall even the lamps on the bedside tables are oversized . William is sitting on the bed, observing his sister go through every single item in mom’s closet. Eventually she picks out a dress and waves it in front of him:

“What about this?”

“Yes that’s the one…Mom looks so pretty in that dress.” 

She climbs into the dress and turns around, so that he can do the zipper and after several twirls in his honor, he proclaims, “Perfect. This color goes well with your brown hair”, chuckling. Those words tasted kind a strange in his mouth, however, watching her this happy makes up for the embarrassment of being too old for this game. Amalie observes the image of herself in the huge mirror on the wall. The blue silk dress is wearing her more than the other way around, but in her mind, this is perfect. The outfit is completed with a pearl neckless and some gold ear clips, she found in the box on the dressing table. 

Side by side on the bed, he is trying to apply lipstick to her pursing lips, when Nico enters the room. They had no idea he was home. 

William stands up and move into the void between Nico and Amalie. “What are you doing here?” 

“I live here”, Nico smiles, instinctively sensing the playful and happy atmosphere between brother and sister. This bubble he so wants to be a part of, but never seem to achieve.

“Hey, why not play in the garage? You know, the Volvo like last week, William?…Amalie you too”.

When Amalie was at Maris house and Nico and William were home alone, they had camped out in dad’s car, turning the lights on and off, listening to the newly installed stereo, blasting songs into the garage, while singing their lungs out. 

“Hallooo…It’s not a Volvo, Nico, it’s an Audi”. William has a soft spot, when it comes to cars. It is his thing – with dad. Dad would never buy a Volvo, everyone knows and Nico can’t even tell the difference. 

A curly head with bright red lips peeks out from behind Williams back pointing a finger at Nico: “Whatever.., we are not allowed to do that, Nico.” 

William turns to face her with a hand over his mouth trying to retain from laughing. She looks so funny all serious, drowning in moms dress. She lifts an eyebrow and her lips curl upwards at the sight of William suppressing a chuckle. She can't help, but to giggle out loud herself. Nico bent half ways over, hands on his knees, joins in laughing wholeheartedly. With each wave of laughter, some of the tension built up between them evaporates. It does not happen very often. 

“We can play, you are off to a party somewhere…” Nico tries again, this time addressing Amalie, he pauses while suppressing a giggle: “...and I’m the chauffeur” 

The thought of having both brothers undivided attention, is too tempting for the little sister. She looks at William knowingly - without him there will be no fun: "Pleeeease?".  
Of the three of them, William is the cautious one. They are most definitely not allowed to play in the car and if one of them make a scratch or ruin something, dad would loose it. Secondly, he knows Nico’s mood changes by the minute, often causing some of them to fight and someone to cry. Amalie, however, is jumping up and down in eager anticipation of him giving in.

“OK, but only, if you play along Nico. Please.”

“YAS...” Amalie stretches her arms in the air shouting: “Touch down”. She runs to the other side of the closet and chooses a blue and black striped tie matching her dress: “William, for you my dear”. Their eyes lock for a second, when he bends over and let her solemnly hang the tie around his neck.

It doesn’t take Nico long to find the car keys in a draw and a cap in a closet in the garage. William, with the tie hanging loosely around his neck, gets into the backseat next to Amalie. William kisses his “wife” on the lips, “Sweetheart you look amazing”. Amalie giggles, “Honey I love that tie”. Nico asks them where they are going and William orders the chauffeur to take them to the opera. Yes sir”, Nico replies with a deep voice, putting the keys in the ignition, turning on the stereo.

Positioned next to his sister and behind his brother William is following Nico closely and at the same time fulfilling the part as Amalie’s admiring husband. He immediately registers the humming sound of the car engine, when Nico’s feet hit the gas pedal. 

“Shit…Nico what are you doing, you can’t drive”.

“Sure I can, it’s damn easy, this car has automatic gear, dummy. I thought you knew everything about cars. You know like a bumper car; even Amalie can drive this car, if she wanted, I mean. You could too, William.”

“But, we are not allowed” Amalie says looking nervously from Nico to William. 

“NO…we are not allowed Nico, if dad finds out he’ll kill us.”

“Come on”, Nico pushes the button for the garage door to open. The car is slowly but surely rolling out of the garage into the driveway. Leaning forward resting their arms on the seat in front of them, William and Amalie are uncertain whether this is an adventure or a nightmare. 

The car is now out on the street slowly rolling downhill. Amalie hides her face in Williams’s shoulder every now and then peeking out at the road ahead. At first this is kind of fun, but as the speed increases panic begins to spread from a pain in his stomach to an uncomfortable sensation in all his limbs. He is studying Nico’s expression in the rear-view mirror: “Nico, do....do you know what you are doing? Just stop the car.” He asks quietly, trying to suppress his fear

“NICO stop the car now, I WANT TO GET OUT.” Amalie screams. 

A few hundred meters from the house two things happen at the same time: A car driving uphill approaching them on the narrow road and two pedestrians walking downhill in front of them . There is not enough room for the Audi in between. To evade hitting the couple walking, Nico makes a sharp turn to the right. Amalie starts crying when her head hits the roof. Arms and legs are flailing, searching for somewhere to hold and stop the abrupt movement. William grabs her hand, and claws Nico's shoulder with the other hand: 

“The brakes Nico? What is wrong with you…...Stop. Stop”, He can’t hold it together anymore and start crying. 

The car ploughs through the guardrail and slice the cliff face on the right side of the road. 

“William...I..”

Everything is a blur from now on.

An incredibly loud sound of metal crashing into granite and crushing glass accompanied by millions of dancing sparks.

The right side passenger door torn free from its hinges. 

Her hand letting go.

The smell of gasoline.

Then the piercing sound of silence. 

A bundle of blue silk. 

William kneeling next to her. 

Her head nested in a pool of blood. 

He can’t see her face, only hair, the gold earring and a lot of blue silk. He needs to see her face, her lips moving- talking – to him- but an instinct tells him turning her over, would be a mistake. Tears running down his face, he calls her name, begging her to say something. His hand is a comb stroking her chestnut head of hair, trying to put a stubborn lock behind her ear.

Nico is saying something behind him. 

People start arriving. Blinking lights from an ambulance bathes the scene in red and yellow. Someone lifts her onto a stretcher and into the ambulance and from then on everything is black for a very long time.

_________________________________  
_________________________________

Moms not there, when William comes home from school. No note, no nothing. He walks from room to room shouting “Mom”. When he reaches Amalie’s room, he stops for a second and then moves on to Nico’s room. 

“Nico have you seen mom?”

“Nope”

“She was supposed to be here, when we came home from school”

“She doesn’t give a shit about us, don’t you get it”

“But she said…”

“Yes and so what, everything she says is bullshit”

William is not buying Nico’s version of mom. He pulls out the new phone, dad gave him, from his back pocket and push her number. She picks up immediately. She cares for sure.

”Yes, William, Hallo”

“Hi”

“Hi, yes?”

“I was thinking,…can you buy some snacks on your way home?”

“We… I don’t know how long I am staying, if you can’t wait, then I think you have to ask Maria, to go and buy it for you, OK?”

“Mmm but when are you coming home, mom?”

“I don’t know yet, William, I have to wait and see, I have some things I need to do, you know”

“Are you sleeping at home tonight?”

“Yes I think so, maybe…”

“Maybe, we can watch a video?”

“Yes maybe, OK?”

She never came home and after dinner with Nico and Maria, he goes to bed. He drifts of to Harry Potter playing quiddich. His senses, bombarded with sounds and images, voices, heart pounding. Twisting and turning, crying a little bit. Finally he surrenders and goes to Nico’s room. Only the turned on flat screen on the wall at the end of Nico's bed light up the room. William stands in the doorway with the duvet in his arms.

“Nico have you heard from mom?”

“No”

“Eh...can I sleep in your room?”

"Are you scared or something?"

"Eh..no, I'm just bored."

"Sure, we need to stick to together. It's you and me against the world."

Nico climbs out of bed and asks William to assist him in pulling a mattress out from underneath the bed. Feeling better, William climbs under the duvet and lies in the dark silently watching the movie with his brother.

_________________________________

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a window case, in his apartment in London William is sitting by the open window smoking, staring into the night at the million sparks that is the view from here; cars, commercials, streetlights. His mind is running away in uncontrollable circles. Bringing back not just images but compartmentalized scenes, he has no interest in revisiting. His hand is shaking as he puts the cigarette between his lips again and inhales smoke all the way to the abdomen and back out of his nose. The other hand playing nervously with the phone.

Now she wants him back and again he falls into this pit of feeling too much.

The words did not sink in at first. He felt nothing and put the phone back in his pocket. 

“What the fuck, Noora” he whispered, to himself looking into the ground. After having read the mail repeatedly.

In general, things are pretty much back to normal. Life goes on. He is sleeping at night; girls come and go, like in the old days back in Oslo. Tonight at a pub, he joined a group of people he almost calls friends. 

Then this mail from HER.

“I love you and if you love me, come to Oslo”.


	20. Dad

Dad’s driver is picking him up in 20 minutes and William is digging deep into his closet to find a proper outfit for the destination. Casual but not too casual. Every item he pulls out is either wrinkled or dirty. It has been a while since he went to the launderer or ran a wash of his own. 

On the bed, a suitcase is open and half packed.

The golf club is an hour drive outside of London. It's the type of place where you need a decent bank balance and a bulging book of contacts full of prominent people, who like you, to become a member. William has been here before with his dad dining in the restaurant or partying in the bar. So dinner is nothing special, they dine together twice a month at least. Its the going back to Norway part, which is sensible. It should not be, but he knows even if his dad doesn’t, that the old man needs his son around and not across the North Sea in Norway. 

William finds him in the restaurant way back at the table by the window. The tall slender man is ordering drinks from a beautiful waitress. Williams hand land on the broad shoulders, and the man turns, smiles and greet him with a firm handshake. Dads shirt, whiter than white, makes his tanned complexion stand out. William looks pale standing next to him, painfully aware that his choice of a t-shirt underneath the blazer was all wrong. 

A nod at the seat across the table and the waitress standing next to them, draws the chair for William. Dad asks how things are at the office and William begins a long speech, covering the most interesting events since they last saw each other.

Dad listens, nods every now and then and when William pauses, he takes over: “I just talked to John and he has nothing but praise to say about the work, you have been doing”.

Williams eyes lights up in a smile as dad continues. 

“I know it hasn’t been easy being my son, working for John at the bottom of the hierocracy, but looking back, I think it was the right decision. It would have been wrong for you to come and work for me right away. You need to gain some more experience and schooling and then we can talk about you joining M&M Wealth.”

William is playing with his fork, listening Letting the praise sink in.

“You know William, I have a trip planned with a client of ours, a funny guy… to Monaco in August and I think you would enjoy that. What do you say?” Cheerfully he is smiling at his son. “I mean it’s a heck of a nice place. Great restaurants, bars. I am sure we can arrange a special tour of the Formula 1 course, maybe get Hamilton to come out and show us his Mercedes.

William is surprised and excited about this proposal. “Yeaa sounds great, really great, dad. I would love that”. Whatever happens he should be able to travel in August and make it back to Oslo by September 1st and law school – if he gets accepted – that is.

“I don't think you have been to Monaco have you?”, dad asks.

There is a small wrinkle on the otherwise stiff and crisp tablecloth and William is trying to undo it with his right thumb. The question hangs in the air. The waitress, who obviously know Mr. Magnusson very well, refills both their glasses with cold chardonnay. William takes a gulp of the wine and then one more and feels the courage build up. 

“I need to go back to Norway for a week or two.”

Surprised by this new piece of information and change of subject, dad asks: “Why...when?”. 

“Soon…I mean now…tomorrow. To talk to Noora”

“Talk? Now? .. after all this time. Why?

“Because I am...”, the seconds it takes to find the right words are in favor of dad, who takes over, his tone changed from from asking to inquiring.. 

“I mean this girl left you, didn’t she?”

And YOU left me - is Williams instant reflection, but the thought doesn’t travel in the shape of words from his brain to his vocal cords, still working on the wrinkle, he looks into his father’s eyes and says with a firm voice:

“I love her”.

His eyes lock with an identical set of brown eyes, “And she asked me to come back”. Holding the stare is not easy, but Williams instinct tells him this is important now.

“Did you talk to her?” Dad has left the knife and fork on his plate. He leans back, still staring at William, while drying his mouth with a napkin, equally as white as his shirt.

“No she sent me an email”

“Let me get this, she left you, right? 

“Mm mm..”, William nods, and lifts his gaze from dad to an antique clock hanging on the opposite wall, his forehead furrowed. 

“With no word, huh?”, piercing eyes still on his son.

“Mmmm”, the clock on the wall is of a strangely modern design compared to the rest of the interior in the restaurant.

“…and…You haven’t heard from her since…it’s been what, 7 no 8 months, she sends you a mail and you wag your tail and immediately go running after her?”

“Yes I guess..so…” ... and now that he thinks about it, the time is not accurate on that clock.

“Are you serious William?”, dad says with a raised voice, reclaiming Williams full attention.

“What... Dad.., it wasn’t all her fault…it was me and Nico...”. Williams face goes blank, the sound of his heart is beating in his ears, knowing all to well Nooras disturbing decision to go home suited his dad all to well. He is fidgeting with the wrinkle again, now alternating his gaze from the tablecloth to the woman putting on 18th green outside. 

“…maybe not, but she left without a word and we both know, what that did to you. I would say that’s a serious break of trust. What happens the next time you guys have a fight?”

William feels the energy leaving his body. It’s true, going back could backfire. He is 9 years old again, alone in the big house with Nico, on one of the many fancy phones dad gave him, trying to reach one of his parents for the millionth time. Where were you then, he thinks, but does not say. The plan was to also mention law school and Oslo, but the courage has left him. He forces his gaze back on the man in front of him.

“Don’t do this dad.”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like shit for leaving you.” 

His father looks as if he is searching for something in Williams eyes, forehead furrowed. For a fraction of a second there is a deep connection of unspoken sorrow, none of them neither capable of nor willing to dig into.

William is the first to snap out and back to the present, “Dad no matter what, I have to talk to her. I need some closure and I need to see my friends OK? That is all. Do you think John will let me off the hook for two weeks?”

“Sure, I’ll talk to him and I will ask my driver to take you to the airport." Dad clears his throat and continues: "you can use my car once you get there, its parked in the airport.” He calls the waiter back and asks for the dessert menu, indicating the time has cone to leave this subject. It doesn’t take her long to bring two Creme brulée and two cognac. The discussion drifts back to a safe and more familiar topic, the SoME stocks and their destiny once they hit the market. 

On the drive home, the young and the middle-aged man are equally engaged in another conversation about their favorite to win Formula 1 this season. William has always been a fan of Louis Hamilton and it looks like he will take away the trophy. He is teasing dad making fun of the Ferrari team, who were so certain they would win this year. 

Williams apartment is the first stop. He gets out of the car and say goodbye to dad through the rolled down window. 

“Just come back my boy, and don’t let her get you down OK?”

“Sure I won’t”, William smiles and waves as the car backs out and continues down the road.


	21. Coming home

Mrs. Schistad opens the door and when she recognizes the young man in leather jacket standing in front of her, a warm smile spreads across her face.

“William! Welcome home, it’s been…”

“…A year” William interrupts. Genuinely happy to see her, he bends down and receives the kiss on his cheek with a laugh. “Chris said I could stay for a few days.”

His coat is put on a hanger, which she jams into a wardrobe so stuffed, she needs both hands and a key to make sure everything stays in place. “The guestroom is waiting for you.”

“Perfect. I'm sure Chris needs some alone-time after sharing a barrack with 25 smelly guys for so long.”

Mrs S smiles. Chris has been in the military for four months now and they both know this change in comfort level, has been a hard pill for him to swallow. “Ha-ha...yes, probably." She points at the stairs: "You know where the room is.”

The smell of pinewood meets him as he opens the door to the small guestroom on the first floor. Someone put fresh linen on the bed and a clean towel on the chair. He takes a few minutes looking out the window into the garden, enjoying the familiar sights as well as the unusual view of dads Aston Martin parked in the garage next to the Schistads station car. The last time he sat on that patio life was pretty much shit. Did he honestly think leaving Noora would be a better choice, than risk getting hurt? Now that Noora has reached out, he wonders if she had found her self in the same dilemma, when she left London all those months ago? Looking at that patio now is a painful reminder of how hurt and lost she must have been. 

Since he boarded the plane this morning, the tickling sensation in his stomach has increased by the hour. William needs to tell himself this is actually good. His instinct is to prepare for the worst. The plan b in his pocket if everything goes wrong. Whatever, for now he wants to enjoy being home. He retreats from the window, finds some clean clothes, grabs the towel and heads for the shower.

The smell of freshly made coffee greets him as he enters the kitchen and soon he is sitting on a bar stool with a mug in his hand watching Mrs. S cut her way through a big pile of vegetables.

“Can I help in any way?”

“No that’s Ok, you can entertain me, while I get through this.” She points at the vegetables with the knife. “Tell me first, are you home on vacation?”

In search of something to occupy his hands, William scans the surface in front of him. “I applied to law school...and if I get accepted, I guess, I’ll be back in Oslo for good.” His eyes land on a bunch of toothpicks in a glass, he picks up one and place it between his thumb and index finger.

“I heard you were going to join your dads company?”

“Yaa, well I can still do that as a lawyer, we’ll see, you know, I might not get accepted”, he wiggles himself out of a proper answer. Or so he thought.

“The friend of Eva, who went to London with you, I don’t remember her name."

William looks up from his busy hands, "Noora...hmm...her name is Noora”, he quietly clarifies.

"Yes, her, I heard you broke up.”

“True.” His focus is back on his hands, trying to change the position of the toothpick from his index finger to the middle finger without dropping it. She must have heard this from her open-mouthed son. William never shared the whole truth about Noora with Chris. The fact that she left without a word and therefore there was no real breakup. On the fridge behind Mrs. S He notices the picture of him and Chris in front of her rose bed.

“…but you still care?” Mrs. S continues relentlessly.

His eyelids closes and a few seconds pass before he looks up again: “...Yes, I do… Well to be honest, I came home because of her.” 

Mrs. S has stopped cutting and left the knife on the table. She looks down on her hands as she wipes them off in a dishcloth, then she lifts her head, and address the young man in front of her with the authority only someone he respects could muster.

“Listen, William, if I was your mom, I would tell you, I am very proud of you and what you have accomplished, in spite of… everything.”

“It’s not...” flushed and overwhelmed by her words, he was going to add…”a big deal”, but that would be a lie, which she knows, obviously. The lock of hair falls into his face as he looks at the toothpick in his hand, pressing the sharp end into his fingertips, welcoming the distraction of a pleasant pain.

“Shh.. I want to say this before Chris comes back", she reaches a hand out and gives his arm a slight squeeze. "You should hang on to whatever makes you happy. Don’t think too much, just follow your heart and go with the flow.”

The microscopic nods hidden behind a curtain of hair does not reveal the impact of her message. Only a trained eye could know. 

She returns to the vegetables at the sound of the back door opening. Chris, who has the ability to pop up in the most delicate of situations, naturally chose this moment to enter the kitchen:

“William, Fy Fan, what’s up with that ugly beast in our garage”, he blurts out spreading his arms wide for a long heartfelt bro hug.

\-----------------------------------

After dinner, (vegetable soup!) Borkis, Eric and Seb show up each carrying a six-pack of Tuborg beer. It’s great to be back with those brothers, who carried him through high school. They hang out on the patio in the light summer night, drinking beer talking about the past and the future. For some reason no one asks William about Noora, which he is grateful for. Borkis has a girlfriend from Uni and Eric moved into an apartment near Nissens. Everyone is happy at the prospect of William returning to Oslo fulfilling a void; they have all felt in his absence.

Chris is unusually quiet, paying his phone a great deal of attention, scrolling, and texting. William lands on the nearest chair next to him and waves a beer in front of his face.

"Whats up?"

“Tomorrow there’s a party for Eva at Chris Berg’s house.” Chris whispers, accepting the beer with a smile. This is an exclusive invitation and he doesn't want the other guys to know.

“Okayyy and?” William rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s go get’em Bro, I mean you came back for Noora. Right?”

“Yes...and for you pal", he chuckles, "No...serr..., It might be to late to pick up the pieces. I don't know.”

“Well, you have to try!", Chris slams a hand on the table and continues: "I probably shouldn't..., but Eva told me something." He takes a sip of beer and sneaks a glance at his phone.

"Chris what?...What did she tell you?"

"What Noora answered, when the girls asked, what's going on between the two of you. Do you know what she said?" 

"No Chris I don't know", he rolls his eyes again, impatiently, tapping his fingers against the can.

"I quote..She said...” Chris flexes his index and middle fingers of both hands: 

"It-is always-going-to-be-me-and-William."

"Really....?", Williams jaw drops and a fluffy ball of happiness explodes somewhere near his heart. He stares into the ground for a few seconds and then breaks into a big smile, gets up from his chair and clashes his beer against Chris': 

"Fuck-a-doodle-do Christopher, you know that party you mentioned, I'm in."

"Draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, hell yes me too, in your fuckings car"

_______________________________________________________________

Sitting in the bed with a pillow behind his back leaning against the wall, William turns on the computer. The light from the screen bathes his features in blue. He opens Facebook, types his brother’s name and stares at the profile picture popping up. Between his brows a line appears. He draws in a long breath and types a short message:

June 8th, 2017  
Nico,  
What you did was unforgivable. The worst thing is to know, you probably don’t think so yourself.  
In time, I might forgive you, but not now.  
I want to ask you one favor, which I believe you owe me.  
Let me have the apartment to myself for the month of June.  
William

He pushes the send button and takes a sip of water. Clinches and spreads his fingers a few times before continuing.

Next, he names a new folder on his google drive “Noora”. He uploads nine documents and names them #2-#10 in chronological order. He lingers at the last one, because he remembers being in a dark place, when it was written. With all documents lined up, he chooses to share the folder with loglady99@gmail.com - tics off a box to make sure she does not receive any notifications.

And finally before going to sleep, he writes the last document:

“#1”  
June 8th, 2017  
Dear Noora,  
Please read #2-#10 and know me as I am.  
JED  
Always  
William  



	22. A warrior or a victim

Hallo I’m 15, practically grown up, so no fucking need for my parents to be around or to show up for anything, the boy is soundlessly shouting to the pavement while walking away from school. The chestnut curtain of hair hiding his eyes points focus to his mouth articulating the perfect answers; he had been short of half an hour ago. Damn Anders. 

Today was the last day of school. William had made it through the 10th grade diplomas-ceremony and the-shaking-of-the-principals-hands even the class-performance-on stage, he had survived. With minimal effort, his exams had gone pretty well, actually, everything was looking bright. Soon he would be off to spend the summer in London and upon returning move on to VG at Nissens. 

He had been in a hurry to make it home before his friends, shoving the entire content of his locker into a bag, when Anders popped up from behind the locker door. William threw him a smile. Since he always liked this teacher, he was expecting a friendly goodbye, instead of being cornered and forced to take part in that unnecessary and ridiculous conversation.

Anders had hoped to see William’s parents at the ceremony and he was curious to know, what had kept them from attending this important event in their son’s life. Annoyingly kind he had smiled at William and helped him hold the bag, enabling the last few books to slide into the already stuffed bag. William had tried to brush Anders off by simply stating, he had told them not to. The truth was somewhere in between. Dad had declined the invitation, being too busy in London. Mom, being unpredictable and straight out embarrassing, was never presented the option. It had never occurred to him, her presence might have kept the likes of Anders from snooping into his private life. 

The school's sudden interest in William began a few months back, when a group of parents had ganged up and called Anders to vent a concern about this kid in the class. To their knowledge, the parents were never home, which naturally made his apartment a favorite hangout spot for everyone in the class. They presumed the very drunk version of their beloved sons, caught hours after their curfew, had committed the felony at the Magnusson residence. An older brother, who had nudged the younger ones to tank up and smoke weed, was also mentioned. 

William found out about this conspiracy when Anders, after several unsuccessful calls to his parents, had laid out the facts and asked for their updated phone numbers. As today William had tried to dodge the questions, but Anders would not let him off the hook until the phone was out of his pocket and the numbers handed over. The teacher must have finally managed to get a hold of mom or dad and god only knows how that conversation had unfolded or what the conclusion was. Since then, William had not heard a word about it. He had, however, noticed a few of his friend's reluctance to come over on Friday nights. His best guess is that the topic stranded somewhere on Snarøya in moms foggy mind. 

On this last day of school, Anders obviously wants to clear his conscience or whatever. So William had to help him by assuring; Dad travels for his job, yes, but we talk often. There is a nice au pair. Things are great, he had concluded with a heart pounding so loud, he was worried Anders would get the discrepancy between the truth and the words coming out of his mouth. 

Close to home, William stops at the local store, where he searches the shelves for the brand of beers, he knows his friends would like. He grabs a couple of cigars for the heck of it and presents Nico’s ID at the counter. Next year he will be in another school and from what Nico says, the teachers there treat you as grownups.

The bag weighs heavy on his shoulders as he climbs the stairs and unlock the apartment door. With the eyes of a criminal investigator, he scans the floor in front of him, analyzing the type of environment he is entering. A pair of timberland boots; lined up next to one another under the hangers. Numerous Adidas sneakers; spread randomly on the floor. He recognizes the white ones as Eric’s. The blue ones could be Borkis’, the red smaller shoes must belong to some girl. The boots are his brothers for sure. This last puzzle bit adds another cloud to the darkness, which has been building up since he left school. His friends are here for the pre-party, and he would have preferred to be home before they arrived. To set up things and keep a watchful eye on Nico. They need to be at some rented premises down town at 19.00, when the formal graduation dinner begins. 

He leaves the beers and cigars on the kitchen counter next to the note he left for Nico this morning. 

“Nico, 2 friends are coming over later, please don’t serve them anything.”

Judging from the sounds coming out of the living room there is a full blown party going on already. A lot of shouting, music playing and a TV running. Rudolph, the parakeet Maria got him years ago has joined the fun with some loud twerps to indicate, he is very much part of the flock.

The door to the living room is slightly open and through the crack, William studies Nico on the couch surrounded by four guys and a girl. William counts the number of heads he would call friends – 2 guys, he was right about the shoes, the rest must be Nico’s friends from VG. His eyes land on the empty vodka bottle on the table and that’s when it hits him, leaving that note was a huge mistake. Nico just loves the cheap points; he can score with these younger boys, bathing in their attention. They are playing cards, having fun - so far so good, William thinks. Eric and Borkis scream in fake despair, when Nico takes the game. A giant grin spreads on his face, as he raises his arms in the air and shouts from the top of his lungs:

“Touch down… and now you losers have to drink” pointing at Eric and Borkis. 

Head lovered in frustration, William takes a step back and continues to his room, . Safe behind the closed door, he throws himself on the bed and buries his head in the cushion. Nico is such a fucking manipulative shit. Shutting out all the noise in his head. He needs some space to re-set his mind to a normal state of balance before facing everyone. The shouting draws most of his attention to the gathering next-door. The last thing he needs right now is two drunk friends at his side, when they arrive at the party downtown. Dozens of parents will be around for gods sake. 

William rolls over to lie on his back and begin scrolling the contact list on his phone. Mom? Dad? Maybe Maria? The last incoming text, he reads again.

DAD: “SAS 6076 from Gardamoen, 1500 next Friday.”

He stares into the ceiling, contemplating weather to call or not. Nico's shouts next door makes the decision for him. He throws his legs out of bed and walks to the window, waiting for the call to reach London. He doesn’t know what to say, he just needs to talk to someone sane.

“Dad, can you talk?” he asks, resting his forehead on the cold window, starring into the busy street below.

“Sure, hang on I’ll walk outside”, the music is playing in the background and William pictures the tall man having drinks at some restaurant waiting to be seated. The music has disappeared, when the voice reappears:

“..ey Will what's up?”

“Dad, I want to come and live with you, please…” William blurts out and seconds later, he knows the battle is lost. It came out rushed with no thought out strategy whatsoever. There is a pause and William can hear the man breathing at the other end of the line. 

“Didn’t we already discuss this?”

“Dad…no…I haven’t asked in a long time… I mean I am starting a new school anyway…I can do that in London”

“I am to busy over here to be..”

“To be what?.. I don’t need... I mean..I can take care of myself… I just need to get away. Dad you don’t know what it’s like to be…” His face folds in like that of an old mans. He was going to say all alone, but the words get stuck in his throat. He blows into the cold glass and draws a circle in the mist.

“Hmm.. hey when you’re done with school, I will buy you a great apartment, I will put you through the best universities in the world. I can promise you that much. You know, we have the best schools in the world here in the UK, right? For now, I need you to do well in Oslo. Look in on your mom every now and then and hang in there with your brother… that’s all…and you know I’ll see you soon. Booked your ticket today”.

“But…dad..” William pauses, knowing all to well this conversation is over. He walks back to the bed, leaving the unfinished call on the pillow next to him. The metallic sound of dads voice reaches him anyway “Hey Will are you a victim…..” 

Williams thumb lands on the hang-up button before dad is allowed to finish the sentence. He stares into the carpet, curtain drawn clenching his fits. Fucking assholes, all of you. I am a warrior you dick, he whispers between his teeth, clenched jaws. 

The outrage fuels him with renewed energy and after a while he is back on track and ready to face the others. He shakes his head and stands tall searching his closet for the only suit he owns, a tie and a white shirt. Once dressed, he studies the image of himself in the mirror. His mouth is a straight line, the color drained out of his face. Not bad, he thinks .

The smell of vomit meets him, when enters the living room. Eric sitting in the couch, bent forwards is spraying the entire content of his gut all over the floor. Borkis is kneeling next to him mumbling, while uselessly rubbing a napkin in the slimy mass on the floor. William jumps to the rescue with a fruit bowl, just in time before the second wave escapes the poor boy. 

Rudolph, who for some reason has escaped his birdhouse, lands on the floor next to Williams feet and begins to nibble the sad half-chewed food lumps drenched in Erics vomit

Nico and his friends are nowhere in sight.

_______________________________________  
______________________________________  
_____________________________________

William closes his eyes and feels the mild breeze on his face. It’s a bit windy and chilly for June. The warmth irradiating from Noora lying next to him makes him want to move closer. He studies her the way he always does. She bites the end of the pencil. Her eyes closed in a second of thoughtfulness. Strings of hair blows in front of her face. He moves in on her, not really sure, what he wants to say. If he is accepted to Uni he will be back in Oslo September 1st anyway. The thought of going back to London without her, even just for the summer, is unbearable. 

This text from dad is more to the point than the other fifty William received since coming back to Oslo. Having refined the ability to hide any sincere feelings, dad naturally wraps his tokens of love in bold statements. Statements indirectly circling the importance of Williams return to London.

DAD: John needs you!  
DAD: The market is volatile now, make sure your clients are happy!  
DAD: Don’t invest in Agillity? They just dropped a shocker of an annual report.  
DAD: You can’t use the Austin much longer, it’s not registered in Norway.  
DAD: Need your passport for tickets to Monaco.  
DAD: We need to discuss broker school for this fall.  
DAD: Your rent is due.  
DAD: Green lights for Hamilton in August.  
DAD: Just wrap it up and come back, opportunities don’t wait, you know that.

And then the last ones, where he narrows in on the heart of the matter:

DAD: When are you coming? Have you talked to her yet?  
DAD: Please do!

The frequency of these texts is in sharp contrast to dad’s usual reserved and controlled demeanor. These are desperate cries of a lonely man, who fears he might have lost his son to an 17-year-old girl. It’s fucking pathetic considering the vast number of times he had the chance to be there or just listen or… - if he had chosen to make that a priority.  


William is lying on his back, staring into the deep blue sky. A chaotic mixture of unpleasant memories and paradise with Noora is propelling through his mind. “Are you a victim or a warrior”, Dad used to ask. The answer was a given. I am a warrior.

Not many people have found their way to the beach today. They made a nest of blankets on the grass. Fluffy white clouds are travelling across the blue sky. Seagulls are fighting for their share of shellfish in the seaweed. A boat is crossing the sound. 

Is he about to repeat that same mistake of asking or pressuring Noora into another London adventure?

Could have, should have, would have.

He rolls the straw against his fingertips and turns to look at her again. All his senses are receptive to her and everything she does, but his mind is somewhere else. She wets her lips and a line on her forehead deepens as she shares her thoughts about Sana. Noora is writing a speech something about a party Sana is having this weekend. She appeals for his assistance, saying she knows he is a good writer. Referring to the article, he once wrote in her name. The combination of her finger drawing circles on his skin and the compliment, plants a rare toothy smile on his lips. Heaven is somewhere here with her. She puts the busy straw-playing hand to rest by leaving her hand on top of his – the way she always does.  
Every now and then, she turns to look at him and they smile and kiss simultaneously. 

Sana, and not Noora was the author of that email. He had to swallow that one. She obviously needs a Sana or an Eskild in her life. The bossy ones, who don’t take no for an answer.

The buzz of Nooras phone reminds him of the decision he has to make. It’s Linn again. The metallic sound of her talking sucks him unwillingly into the conversation. Her sad voice merges with the memory of a lonely needy child. 

”Yes…Linn…Hallo”, Noora says, smiling overbearingly.

“I was thinking…can you buy toilet paper on your way home?”

“We… I don’t know how long I am staying, if you can’t wait, I think you have to buy it yourself, OK?”

“Mmm… but when are you coming home?” Linn goes on.

“I don’t know yet, I have to wait and see, Linn, I have some things I need to do, you know.”

Williams hand reaches out for the phone lying somewhere behind him. A touch on the screen and dads recent text appears. 

“Are you sleeping at home tonight?” Linn asks, probably trying to sound casual. 

“Yes I think so, maybe…” Nooras nods.

“Maybe, we can watch .....if you come...?” Linns voice fades away as Williams zooms in on the text he is about to write. His heart is pounding when his thumb land on the correct letters, rerunning the sentence in his mind to make sure it reflects, what he wants to say: 

“Talked to her, she doesn’t want to go.” 

He pauses and looks at the sky, the next sentence comes easier to him: 

“She needs to be with her friends.” 

Send.

You know dad, I might have been a warrior, I fucking was. I had to be, but I was a victim too. You shove that up your ass. He wants to write, but instead he slowly letter by letter types:

“A-n-d I n-e-e-d t-o b-e w-i-t-h h-e-r” 

His heart skips a beat as he pushes the send button. He is out of breath, holding the phone to his lips. The instinct of wanting to leave or make a mental split, he fights by keeping his hands busy rolling the straw, focusing on the pleasant rough texture against his fingertips. 

In the background Linn cuts a deal with Noora about watching TV, when or if Noora makes it home tonight. 

William makes a mind note to make sure she does. 

Freefalling he breathes, taking in oxygen through the nose, on to the abdomen and then slowly exhale through the mouth. Repeatedly; searching for some peace of mind. The million pictures and thoughts swirling in his brain is passed through a big sieve, where only the random happy ones are allowed to materialize onto the inner white screen. 

The red double-decker bus and the woman in a red dress dancing tango. Magnets, she put on the door to the fridge in his kitchen. 

Noora is twirling in the white dotted blue dress, he bought for her yesterday.

That first kiss in the car after Eva’s party.

Noora on the couch with the PC in her lap reading his notes, glossy eyed. Her knuckles white as she squeezes his hand.

Dinner with the Schistad family.

Noora, in front of the mirror drowning in his clothes. The two of them dissolved in laughter, stomachs shaking, trying to breathe before a new wave of giggles hit them. 

This self-soothing technique is disturbed, when Noora once again tries to pick his brain for inspiration to her speech. The butterfly effect comes to his mind immediately, his own story being the finest proof of the theory. 

He turns to lie on the side pulling her in. He wraps his arms around her waist burying his head in her neck; the soft hair tickles his nose. They fit perfectly, his body angled around hers. Moving closer until there is no space left between them and he can feel her heart beating against his chest. Her warmth seeps into his soul and comforts him. He belongs right here next to her. 

After a long time of holding her tight, Noora untangles herself. Resting her head in the palm of one hand observing him intensely, she pokes his nose and brushes a strand of dark hair away from his face with the other. A line appears between her brows.

"Don't be sad”, she says.

It’s a question, he thinks. 

He hides his face in her chest and speaks into the fabric of her shirt, one twinkling eye visible. 

She can barely hear the words.

“I think I am the happiest, I have ever been”.

\---------

The car is nice and warm, which is a big plus in Nooras book. They fell asleep on the beach and woke up cold. Especially Noora was freezing; her legs checkered like a Scottish clan pattern. At a gas station nearby, they tank up and buy toilet paper for Linn plus coffees to go. 

Back on the road, Noora is sipping coffee warming her hands against the steaming hot cup, talking about the speech and Sana’s party on Saturday.

“You know, we are celebrating the end of Ramadan, right?”

“We?...Me?” He points at himself with his free hand, the other firmly on the steering wheel.

“Yes, you too. Hallo what did you think?” she laughs and nuzzles his neck. "They invited all of us"

“But I don’t know Sana…or her family...”...or anybody, he thinks, but doesn’t say. All of us means all of them. The gang of friends she missed back in London. The ones, who carried her through eight long months without him. He will go, because it means a lot to her. For her, he can be nice, laugh at their jokes, and help them out if they need something. Actually, he can’t think of one thing, he would not do for her, if she asked. The thing about Noora he has come to understand though is, she will not ask very often. He must learn to know, just as he should have known, she was waiting all these months for him to come back. 

“Okay.., what time is it?” he asks, secretly hoping Chris is invited too or they have planned something, he can't get out of.

“20.00, I think. I want to waltz in with the hottest guy from school,” she giggles into the coffee cup.

“You are such a fucking cliché Noora,” he laughs, eyes focused on the road ahead. Noora, who is not a driver herself, has not noticed the detour they have embarked. 

He hasn’t been here for many years and as the car passes the spot where the school bus used to drop them off, he turns his head to prologue the glimpse of the road leading up to their house. He remembers the Sisyphus battle of slaying nettles on the walk home. A pair of chestnut brown heads of hair, dark eyes and freckles.

Noora at last registers the pine trees and mountainsides, which by now were supposed to be the streets of Oslo:

“Whaaat? Where are we going?”, she shouts looking from right to left.

“I want to show you something.”. His face doesn’t show the whirlwind of emotions going through his mind. 

The gravel road crunches under the wheels, when the car turns into the parking lot. The quaint old red brick church nests on the side of the fjord. The picturesque scenery is completed by the forest-covered mountains in the background. A few small houses are visible way up near the top.  
An old wrought-iron gate marks the entrance to the cemetery.

William walks to Nooras side of the car and takes her hand. She curls into his chest and pulls his arm around her shoulder, shoving the other hand in the back pocket of his jeans.

Softly he plants a kiss on her cheekbone.

The gate opens and squeaks when he pushes the handle. 

Along the southern facing side of the church multiple colored butterflies are busy sucking nectar from the hollyhocks . 

\-------------------------------------------------------THE END-----------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long journey for me and I apologize for taking so long to tie the knot. Saying goodbye to William was harder than I thought it would be.  
> We all project our own life experiences into the character of William and of cause my version is very personal and might not resonate with you at all.  
> I hope you saw something new or maybe were confirmed in your own picture of him as a character.  
> Thank you for all your kind and interesting comments and kudos. Every single one of them made me so happy.  
> English is not my first language, I know that shines through, so I have to thank you native British, Americans, Austrailians, Canadians etc. for your patience. (if there are any of you out there).  
> Skam has been a life-changing experience for me!  
> Finally, thank you Julie Andem just because you are amazingly talented and to Thomas and Josephine for your phenomenal performance .  
> Ofcause I don’t own anything  
> 


End file.
